


Incubus

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Sam is 15, Sexy Times, Sick Dean Winchester, Teen Dean, Teenchesters, Underage Sex, Wincest - Freeform, incubus, incubus - see summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to Dean's displeasure, John has left on a hunt and Dean is stuck in hot-as-hell Bumfuck Georgia watching over a rebellious and emotional Sam who is angry at the whole damned world. As if that's not enough, Dean's been having 'naughty' feelings for his little brother for a year or two now, ever since Sam started going through puberty. The heat rises, tempers flare, and to top it all off, Dean is repeatedly attacked by an incubus which takes Sam's form and fulfills Dean's deepest and darkest desires while draining him of life a little at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=11l1pix)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Co written

Sam sat down on the crumbling steps of the house they’d rented for the past six months, arms looped loosely around his knees with his freakishly long legs touching stretched out so his feet hit the ground. He rested his chin on top of his knees as he watched through dark, unhappy eyes, his brother helping their dad pack the truck. Just by the number of bags and supplies being loaded, he could tell it was gonna be a long trip. At this moment, he hated both of them. Dad couldn’t wait a couple of days before he hit the road, couldn’t keep his promise to take him somewhere special on his birthday. _Unimportant_ things had a way from slipping from his dad's mind, when but when it came to identifying demons and knowing weapons, his mind was a steel trap. Sam couldn’t remember the last time they’d celebrated his birthday on the right day, but he remembered every one of the uncelebrated ones. 

He blinked away the tears that threatened to come. So what if dad had just nodded when he’d tried to show him his report card? “Good job, son.” How the hell would he know? He hadn’t even looked at it and he’d let the paper fall on the floor as he strode outside. Guess it didn’t mean much that Sam had made up three months of missed school and ended up with straight A’s, even in his AP classes. Nah, that counted for nothing when he still couldn’t shoot as well as Dean had at his age and didn’t show half his excitement at the prospect of hunting.

Looking back into the house where the scrap of paper still lay on the ground with the imprint of the sole of John’s or Dean’s boot, he made a face. He felt like tearing the report card up into shreds, and he would... later, when he had the energy to get up. It was so freaking hot and sticky that he hardly wanted to move. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he probably needed it cut.

His gaze went back to Dean who was laughing about something now. Usually, the sight of his brother laughing made him want to smile, but not today. He’d asked Dean if he could go camping with some of the other kids from school, but big brother had nixed that idea for no reason. None. It wasn’t as if Sam couldn’t take care of himself ten times better than any of the other kids who got to go. But no... When their dad was gone, Dean’s word was law.

He’d begged. He’d even gone so far as to suggest Dean take a couple days off work schedule and come with them to the lake. That way, he could keep an eye on him, if it had to be that way. Dean hadn’t budged. Yeah... so Sam was gonna be stuck here, in the heat, no air conditioning, nothing, just because Dean said ‘no’.” Some way to spend summer vacation. Summer hell. 

He deliberately refused to look up toward them even when he felt Dean's eyes drilling holes into him. Neither of the two men at the truck cared what he wanted or thought, so why should he care about what they thought? He had to fight a bit harder to ignore Dean, but he did it, refusing to look at him at all, just as he had since yesterday’s refusal. 

*

His brother was such a fucking girl sometimes, Dean swore Sam had PMS. He threw a glare at the younger boy who was sitting on the front steps of their house fucking pouting. Fifteen years old, about to be sixteen in a few days, and playing up the whole teenage angst thing to the fullest degree. It was really starting to piss Dean off. Alright, so it sucked that Dad had to go away on a hunt a couple of days before Sam's birthday. Fine. But it wasn’t as though their father was doing it just to piss off Sam. People were dying for fuck's sake. Dad needed to get to Washington pronto. Dean would have gone with their father in a heartbeat to help out, but the job was probably going to take at least a month and Sam couldn’t be left for that long on his own. The way his brother had been acting for the last day and a half though, Dean was highly tempted at the moment to jump in the truck with their Dad anyway. 

As though Sam wasn’t pissed off enough at their Dad, Sam was pissed off at him too. All because he'd said ‘no’ to some stupid camping trip. Sam had only asked him because he knew that if he’d asked their dad, John would have given the same answer. Little manipulative shit. He hated when Sam tried to pull that on him. Yeah, Dean was somewhat of a pushover when it came to something his little brother really wanted, he’d bend over backwards to make sure he got it. Just like he’d managed to convince their father to stay in the area for six whole months, one of the longest stretches that they’d ever stayed in one place at a time. Just so his brother could finish out his school year and a few make up classes and wouldn’t have to repeat the grade again next year.

Sam should know better than to ask him about that dumb camping trip though. Camping for God's sake. As in out in the open where anything could attack at any time and there wasn’t any way to even put up any of the normal protections because of the stupid other kids that would be with Sam. Why are you putting a ring of salt around the camp? Yeah, he’d just love to see what explanation his brother came up with. It was the same reason that their dad had never let Sam go to any sleepovers or shit when he was younger, and boy, the temper tantrums that Sam had thrown on occasion. 

Unfortunately, because Sam had decided to be sneaky and ask him and he'd given the same answer their dad would have, he was on Sam’s shit list as much as their father. This was going to be a fucking fun summer alone with emo boy. Though maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Being pissed off at his little brother was a lot easier than... Dean shook those thoughts quickly out of his head before they could fully form. Concentrating on helping their father load up the truck, he did his best to ignore the boy who was pointedly ignoring the both of them. 

It didn’t take long, and when they were finished, John clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright, you know the drill. Call Bobby or Pastor Jim if there’s a problem. The credit card is for emergencies only. Look after your brother,” their father said unnecessarily since he said the exact same thing every single time he left on a hunt.

“Yes, sir.” 

John called his youngest son’s name, _twice_ , to say goodbye to him and Dean frowned at the half-assed wave Sam gave their father. John merely sighed and shook his head, glancing at Dean and rolling his eyes a little. Dean bit the inside of his cheek but couldn’t stop from grinning a little. Sam’s little bouts of teenage melodrama had become something of a private joke between them. 

Dean stepped back as John got into the truck and watched their father drive away, the dirt driveway kicking up quite a bit of dust which stuck uncomfortably to the sweat on his brow and had Dean coughing a little. The middle of summer in the middle of Georgia was not a fun place to be, not in the least. When the truck was finally out of sight, Dean turned around and started walking back to the house, kicking at Sam’s shoe as he passed and walked up the stairs to the front door. “I’m making lunch. Get off your ass and come help,” Dean said as he opened the old screen door that was half way to falling off its hinges, letting it slam shut behind him.

Sam tried to kick back but missed. Turning his head, he glared at the screen door. He wasn’t hungry. It was too freakin’ hot to be hungry. And he wasn’t about to jump at Dean’s command, hell no. Turning back, he stared ahead with unseeing eyes, making plans and dreaming of a future where there were no monsters around every corner and where he got to make his own fucking decisions. A smile almost played on his mouth until he heard a truck pull up and saw it was a bunch of the guys from school hanging off the truck, making cat calls and waving at him to come.

When the cloud of dust settled, his best friend, if you could call him that, shouted, “come on Sam, we still got room. My dad and uncle are coming.”

Sam stood up and looked through dark eyes at the driver, his friend’s dad, and the second car with his friend’s uncle and some other kids he didn’t recognize. He nodded toward the house and shrugged.

“Come on man, want me to talk to them?” Sam’s friend shouted.

“Nah.”

“Why not? We’ve got adults going and—“ 

Sam shook his head again. “They’re paranoid freaks,” he said distinctly. “You could have an army of adults and it wouldn’t mean shit.” 

Seeing that he wasn’t about to budge, the trucks revved their engines and took off, the calls and waves and rude remarks of the guys making Sam want to laugh or break something. This was his life. Always getting left behind. 

*

Dean wasn’t surprised that Sam simply ignored his order to help lunch, he'd already been ignoring him for the last day or so. That didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off and he might have slammed the cupboards and ancient fridge door a little harder than he needed to as he got out the bread, mayonnaise, and a can of tuna. Should just let the little pain in the ass starve, Dean thought to himself as he took out four slices of bread instead of just two for himself. Opening the can of tuna he mixed it with some of the mayonnaise in a bowl. He'd been reaching into the fridge again for some celery and relish when he heard the trucks drive up outside and looked out the window with a frown. He didn’t particularly like it when people came around their place and he wasn't too pleased with Sam’s choice of “friends” in this little hick town either. They were trouble. Not the kind of trouble that Dean could usually find if he put his mind to it, but still trouble. That one boy in particular Dean had a feeling was one of the reasons why Sam had been even more stubborn than usual over the last few months. Always trying to buck their dad’s authority and get away with shit that he normally would have never even thought to ask. Like this stupid camping trip.

Through the window, Dean glared hard at the back of his little brother’s head during the exchange. If Sam had jumped in that truck, he would have grabbed his damn gun and shot out the tires if he had to. But Sam stayed put, though his angry description of his family left a bad taste in Dean’s mouth. Turning back to his task, chopping up the celery with probably a lot more enthusiasm than was required, he shot a glare at his younger boy when Sam finally decided to grace him with his presence and walked through the door. 

He watched Sam casually bend down, pick up his report card and crumple it in his hand before tossing it into the trashcan. Dean's fist tightened a little around the knife in his hand. He knew Sam had gotten all A’s, again. He didn’t even need to see it to know. He’d watched as the younger boy tried to show it to their father on his way out, a rather dumb move on Sam’s part when he knew their dad was distracted. Now Sam was throwing it away without bothering to show it to him like he normally did. Lately, whatever Sam was pissed off at their dad about, by extension meant Sam was also pissed off at him.

His displeased glare followed Sam into the living room and he watched the younger boy peel off his sweat soaked t-shirt and sprawl out on the couch in nothing than his shorts. Sam had been doing that a lot lately too. As the thermometer crept up, Sam wore less and less during the day. Right now his cut off jeans shorts were riding low on his thighs and his lightly tanned skin was covered with a fine sheen of sweat making Dean’s throat suddenly feel very dry.

Dean tore his eyes away from his fifteen year old brother and dumped the celery into the bowl, mixed it up, and dropped a good portion onto each of the slices of bread. But by the time he was cutting each sandwich in half he realized he wasn’t even hungry anymore, thanks to Sam. He didn't know if this was because he was so pissed off at him for his behavior of because of the walking wet dream the younger boy was turning into lately. 

With a curse Dean threw both sandwiches onto a plate and slammed it down on the coffee table in front of Sam. He was out the back door again a second later, letting the screen door slam behind him. As he stalked around the house towards the garage, he tried to ignore the tightness in his jeans and the foul thoughts in his brain that made him feel like the worst fucking pervert in the world because they were directed towards the last person in the world they should be. 

He opened up the garage door and the blast of heat that smacked him in the face made it a little difficult to breathe, fuck it had to be a hundred and twenty degrees in there, but he’d rather spend the afternoon getting baked alive under the hood of the Impala than deal with his pissy little brother or his own perverted unwanted thoughts. Penance and avoidance at the same time, it worked for him. 

*  
"Excuse me for living," Sam muttered. He'd done exactly what _they_ wanted. Stayed home, imprisoned in his own house. What the fuck else did they want from him?

As soon as he heard the garage door, he rolled his eyes. In this heat, Dean couldn't play with his car for more than a few minutes. Reaching for a sandwich, even though he'd vowed not to eat, he settled back against the sofa and took a bite. 

Before he knew it, he'd polished off the sandwich and was reaching for the second one. Weird that Dean made him two of them. How'd Dean know he'd be this hungry? Changing the channel, he tried to get comfortable despite the oppressive heat.

A couple of hours later, he woke up with a start when the volume on the TV. spiked. Frowning, he lowered the volume but his eyes were glued on the news report of people passing out. How long had Dean been in that hot garage? He looked at the clock... holy crap!

Scrambling to get his shoes on, he busted out of the house and practically ran toward the garage.

* 

The tape deck was blaring over on the work bench in the corner of the garage. The window was open and the fan was on, but all it did was circulate the hot air around rather than offer any relief to Dean. He concentrated fully on his work and his baby, trying not to think about how fucking hot it was. Not to mention trying to forget about Sam and their Dad and the never ending feud he was constantly being dragged in the middle of. Forget about his teenage brother’s outbursts and angry mood swings that were growing increasingly harder to live with, how Sam’s eyes no longer looked up to him but only seemed to hold scorn in their depths. To forget about the sick perverted thoughts that seemed to race around in his brain unbidden every time he looked at his brother, thoughts that he hadn’t been able to deny ever since he realized his ‘little’ brother wasn’t so little anymore and finding himself noticing what a beautiful young man Sam was becoming....

He’d been doing a good job of it too, forgetting, denying, ignoring. So good in fact he completely lost track of how long he’d been out here, avoiding Sam and everything else. At least until the garage door opened and Dean looked up to the cause of most of his misery lately, standing there in his cut off shorts, old ratty sneakers without socks, and wearing nothing else. The twitch he felt in his groin watching a drop of sweat drip down from Sam’s hairline, down his neck and chest and over a nipple, put him right back into the foul mood he’d been trying so hard to forget ever since he came out here. 

One look at Dean's flushed face and the sweat dripping down his forehead and Sam wondered whether their dad took Dean's brain with him. He cleared his throat. "People are dying from heat strokes." When he knew he had Dean's attention, he also muttered under his breath. "Not the smart ones who got away from the heat and went places, like the lake." 

Sam’s words, not so much about heatstroke but the ones muttered too softly for Dean to hear coupled with Sam's expression of contempt had Dean scowling. "Yeah, I’d bet you’d fucking love that, if I just dropped dead out here. Sorry to disappoint you. Go away, Sam,” Dean snapped before he bent back under the hood of the car. 

Gripping the frame, Sam frowned and stared at his brother. He knew Dean too well not to read him, not to see that despite his effort to look relaxed, he was tense... coiled as if ready to strike something. That made him wonder if Dean developed superhero hearing and knew what he’d just said. He stood there a while longer, undecided. Dean was clearly done with him, he’d told him to leave. But it was dangerously hot in the garage, even if Dean was in tip top shape and wasn’t about to keel over like the old people the news had been reporting on. Of course he didn’t want Dean to die, he just wanted him to be reasonable... to stop parroting their dad like he knew everything.

Letting out a sigh, Sam walked over and looked under the hood then at his brother’s face, even if Dean was acting like it took all his powers of concentration to mess with his car.

Dean ignored his brother completely. Keeping his eyes glued to the engine and not his pain in the ass brother. His pain in the ass little brother who either didn’t know or didn’t care that the last thing he should be doing was pushing Dean’s buttons right now. Sam had ignored him just fine for the last couple of days and now all of a sudden he wouldn’t go away? What the fuck?! 

Another drop of sweat rolled down Sam's back and he just knew Dean had to be dying of the heat. “Finish later. Split a beer with me?” Yeah, he knew he was under age, but so was Dean and he got no flack for opening the beers in the fridge. It wasn’t that Sam even liked the taste of beer but this would either draw Dean out of the garage, start a fight, or both. He wanted Dean out of the extreme heat, and didn’t shirk from a fight, so one way or the other, Sam was gonna get his way with this.

Dean twisted the wrench in his hand a little more sharply than he needed to and then gave a small mental apology to his baby. Sam’s “innocent” request, as though he hadn’t been making Dean’s life hell for the last few days… or years if you counted all of Dean’s horribly perverting musings about his little brother in various states of undress… finally making him glare at the younger boy. “Sorry, but this _paranoid freak_ is busy. I have to finish this so I can go to work tomorrow so I can feed your sorry ass while Dad is gone,” Dean snapped, wincing a little even as the words left his mouth. He turned away from his half naked brother before he could mutter the apology already burning on his tongue. The apology that he really didn’t feel like giving Sam right now. 

Sam inhaled sharply, his face jerking up at the unexpected below the belt blow. Dean could be mean and insulting, Sam could deal with that since he did a lot of name calling himself. They both gave as good as they got. But _this_ was different, it made him sound like a freakin’ user, like a hanger on... like Dean wouldn’t have to work the job he hated if it weren’t for him. Worse, it made him feel like he was trapping Dean, weighing him down when his brother would much rather go with their dad.  
Sam's throat constricted. He swallowed over the bitter lump and just nodded, as if in agreement. “You said no to the paper route but I’ll do something over the summer,” he said tightly. That had been a shouting match too, with Dean saying he needed to study and not waste time trying to earn a few bucks. As if he couldn’t do both. Sam knew Dean didn’t want him going all over town, that’s what the real issue had been. 

His fingers curled around the metal frame around the engine as he stared intently at Dean. “You know, you’re not as trapped as you think. You could do what you want. Leave... take off, hunt even,” he shrugged. “Most of the chains you’re wearing, they’re not real, they’re in your head. You hate this town, you hate this place... your job, just get in your car and drive. The world will still survive, Dean.” 

The thought of Dean driving off and leaving him at the ramshackle house made his eyes sting a little, but there was no way he wanted to be the reason Dean hated his life. He’d thought about this a lot, for himself. He knew they expected him to graduate and become a full time hunter... to live for it. Their expectations had been a weight on him for a long time until he’d figured out that he’d be at an age where he didn’t have to listen. That he could take off to college. Dad would survive. Dean would survive. The world would survive. 

Dean pretended not to hear what Sam was saying. He pretended not to notice the strain in his little brother’s voice. Refused to show just how much guilt he felt for saying what he had. For hurting Sam’s feelings like he obviously had. He refused to show how much it hurt as Sam expertly returned the favor. He wasn’t ‘trapped’. It had never been a hardship for him, taking care of Sam while their father was away. Sure, maybe he hated working at that god damned video store. Maybe he hated spending a good portion of the day rewinding tapes and keeping stupid kids from going back into the porno section. But that was life. Sometimes you just had to suck it up and deal. He worked between hunts so that he could help dad with the expenses, to take a little bit of the pressure off the older man. He worked to help feed Sam, and himself, pay some bills, and to provide just a little bit more than their tight budget normally allowed. Like ice cream on a hot day, or new shoes so Sam could try out for track. 

He’d never felt trapped by that. He gladly accepted his responsibility. To his father. To Sam. To their family. The thought of leaving had never even crossed his mind. This was his life. Their life. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business, as their dad called it. Maybe he did hate this little hick town they were crashing in for the moment. Maybe he hated this house where the roof leaked badly when it rained too hard. But he wasn’t chained here, he stayed willingly. He didn’t hate his life… though his brother obviously did.

For the past couple of years, Sam had been hinting as much. Always arguing with Dad. Arguing even with Dean more recently, especially if Dean dared to agree with their father about something. His brother had been trying more and more to blow off his training. Claiming schoolwork or wanting to play basketball or soccer or go on fucking camping trips into the woods with his friends. Things that just weren’t practical or were downright dangerous. Asking for things Sam knew their father would say ‘no’ to and then pitching a fit when he got the answer he should have expected. 

Dean had hoped it was just normal teenage angst and rebellion. He'd gone through it himself, though to a much lesser degree. He understood Sam’s frustration, for the most part, but now… He couldn’t help but wonder if he'd been wrong to put Sam's behavior down to hormones or to too much fucking testosterone poisoning his little brother’s brain. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe Sam really did hate their father. And maybe Sam hated him too

The silence unnerved Sam. He stepped away and turned his back so Dean wouldn’t see the tear slip out his eyes. “You won’t get to pick between 'escape' and 'suffering at work,' if you die of heatstroke.” He headed out, practically running and kicking himself for having come after Dean in the first place. But deep down inside, he knew he’d do it again, even knowing what was coming. 

Lost in his thoughts, a few moments passed before Dean blinked, telling himself the stinging in his eyes was just from the sweat dripping down his face. When he finally looked up though, Sam was gone. Probably long gone. Dean stayed out in the garage another half hour or so because he really did need to finish what he’d been working on or he’d have to walk to town tomorrow. When he finally left the garage it was still hot as ever even though the sun had started to set into the horizon.   
He walked slowly up the creaking porch stairs and into the kitchen. Grabbing a towel off the fridge door and wetting it with cold water from the sink, he ran it over his flushed face and the back of his neck a few times. Then he went back to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed two beers. 

Sam stared at the TV. screen but wasn’t watching or listening. Thoughts just simmered and boiled inside him the way it seemed to so much lately. _Worry_. About his stubborn ass of a brother who’d rather give himself heatstroke than admit that staying in the stifling heat of the garage was stupid as hell. _Guilt_. Until now, he hadn’t... not for one second... thought of all the trouble he was to Dean. That if it weren’t for him, Dean could be out there hunting at dad’s side instead of working to ‘feed his sorry ass.’ _Anger_. Who the hell had asked for this life anyway? Dad was out of control and he'd pretty much brainwashed Dean, and now the two of them would be ganging up on him. He could just imagine the fights that were to come. But he was right, and they were wrong. He had a right to choose a normal life. If they didn’t like it, they could suck it up. Or they could try to be normal, freakin’ do their own thing but accept him the way he was, let him go to college.  
Hearing the refrigerator door and footsteps, he turned and saw Dean approach. At least he wasn’t dead, there was that.

Dean flopped down on the couch. He didn’t look at his brother but held out the cold bottle by the neck in a silent peace offering.

“Whole one... for me?” Sam grabbed it before Dean could change his mind. “Thanks,” he muttered.   
Dean merely shrugged at Sam’s surprise. It wasn’t like it was going to stunt the boy’s growth or anything. Little bastard was almost as tall as him now and he was only fifteen. Though that wasn’t the real reason why Dean had gotten them two beers instead of one to share. It was because Dean wasn’t sure how he would… react… putting his lips around the same bottle as Sam, maybe even able to taste a little bit of his brother there every time he took a drink. 

Licking his lips, Sam put the bottle against his mouth and wedged his strong lower teeth between the cap and the bottle. Biting down, he jerked the bottle upward at an angle and spit the cap onto the coffee table. The store near the school had sodas with caps on them and when there was a big crowd of students, you’d have to wait in line for the opener. Unless you learned this trick from Jake. He’d learned that, and a lot more from Jake, but he tried to keep his mind off his friend who was now probably setting up camp near a nice lake. He could think of nothing more fun than swimming at night at the moment.

Dean watched and rolled his eyes. You’re going to break a fucking tooth doing that shit,” he said before looking away again, using the bottle opener he’d brought with him and tossing the cap onto the table next to Sam’s. Making sure not to look at Sam as his brother wrapped his lips around the cold perspiring glass. At least he tried not to but he couldn't help seeing Sam from his peripheral vision. He was glad his face was already flushed and took a long drink of the cold beer to cool himself down. He chewed on his lower lip a moment, pretending to watch the boring ass news show for a while before he leaned over and snatched the remote away from the arm of the other sofa where Sam sat. 

Flipping through channels, Dean started talking. "Maybe we can drive up to the lake on my day off,” he said as though it was the most casual thing in the world, quickly adding for clarification, “for the afternoon.” There was no fucking way they were staying there overnight, but if it would make Sam happy…

A smile lit Sam’s eyes as he practically dove from his couch to the sofa, bouncing up against Dean. “That would be awesome. Jake and the others’ll still be there. They have extra tents... he told me.” Yeah, he knew Dean wouldn’t like it, but he had to try. “It’ll be fun... no different from sleeping in the car, and we’ve done that hundreds of times,” he added a bit defensively, seeing Dean’s eyes narrow. 

The little spark of happiness Dean felt in his own chest seeing the smile light up his brother’s face like a neon sign was unfortunately short lived. It wasn’t that Sam’s first thought was being able to spend time with his ‘friends’ who would still be up at the lake, rather than with his brother who was willing to drive him all the fucking way there just to make Sam happy. Though, ok fine, that did sting a bit. It was the fact that even after he’d said they were only going for the afternoon, Sam immediately launched into a campaign to convince him to spend the night with his fucking friends. 

Give him an inch, the little prick tries to take a mile. That’s what Sam was all about lately, and frankly, Dean was getting really fucking tired of it. "Are you fucking retarded or something? I just said we’d be going up there for the afternoon, that’s it,” Dean said, giving his brother the no nonsense don’t argue with me glare that Dean had learned from their Dad. "No different huh? Forget that the trunk of the car is filled with an arsenal? How about all the protective spells and shit Dad has carved into all the grooves of the windows and doors? You going to put a circle of salt up around your tent before you go to sleep? I’d like to see you try to explain that one to your ‘friends’.”

 

Sam recoiled at the criticism. They didn't think he ever got anything right. Sure, Dean was more encouraging, maybe a little less hard on him when they practiced or went on a real hunt, but it was an act. Inside, this was how Dean felt. 'Little Sammy' knew nothing, had to be told what to do, when and how. He sat back on the other end of the sofa and took a long drink of his beer, trying to control the emotions roiling inside him. All he'd wanted was a peaceful moment and maybe a fun weekend. Taking a couple more swigs, he tried to hold it in, to not to explode, to not to tell it like it was, but he couldn't... just couldn't.

He used the bottle to point at Dean. "You're turning into mini-dad. We used to have fun, break the rules. Now it's all about the stupid rules. Everything is _can't_. Can't do this, can't do that, too dangerous, too in the open, not enough wards, or a waste of time because we're not practicing or killing things... _dad!"_ He emphasized, his eyes raking over his brother. "You make me feel like I'm nuts... like I'm the crazy one, but I'm not... you are, both of you," he nodded. "There are bad things out there, okay... I get that. But you know, reason we see so much of it is your fault... you and dad's. What do you think happens when you go out there and hunt them all the time, huh? You attract them right back, that's what."

Lifting his bottle to his lips Sam took another long drink and felt like his tension was melting away even when he didn't want it to, no... he had to let Dean know how they made him feel. "People, regular people, they go out at night, they go camping, they get to do things after school that really mean something, things that don't have anything to do with shooting or cutting or ... surviving. You know why? Because they live their lives. And yeah, sometimes they get hurt by what's out there, but we've _already_ have been hurt by it. Lightning already struck the Winchesters, okay? Not gonna happen over and over again. Mom's gone... both of you have to get over that, get over trying to get revenge or whatever. We're not getting her back, and this... what we do... it brings the monsters us. That's why we have to put salt around the house and freakin' spells in the grooves of the car windows... That's not normal Dean. That's crazy... and I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm not crazy, and I won't let you or him try to tell me I am. I won't." Hot tears started to streak down his cheeks. He wiped at them, angry at himself. "I just wanna be normal... why can't you let me? Why?" 

There were a lot of times he felt like he just wanted to strangle Sam for picking fights with Dad and doing everything in his power to make life as miserable as possible for this family. There were a lot of times when Dean felt like beating the shit out of his smart mouthed little brother, especially in the recent months. But he'd never acted on it.

Now Dean saw red. Sam had gone too far. Way too fucking far. If Sam wanted to criticize him, call him crazy, paranoid, hate him, and blame him for all of his misery, fine. If Sam wanted to mouth off about Dad, talk shit about their father and how much he hated their life, that was Sam’s problem. But the little fucking bastard didn’t get to say a fucking word about their mom. The mom that Dean barely remembered anymore and Sam never even got to know because she'd been murdered by some evil son of a bitch… and Sam didn’t even fucking care…

Dean barely realized he was on his feet and barely managed to uncurl his fist at the last second so it was only the flat of his palm that cracked loudly across the younger boy’s face. He knew guilt would hit him hard and fast later for hitting Sam, but right now he didn’t give a damn. "Fuck you, you ungrateful little shit!” Dean yelled, standing over the younger boy, his whole body practically vibrating with fury, with the desire to give Sam more than just a fucking bloody nose or bruised lip. Maybe if he bruised up that too fucking pretty face enough, then maybe he would stop looking at Sam. Maybe if he split those too well sculptured lips, then he wouldn’t want to kiss them anymore.

A little sluggish from the liquor, Sam watched, as if in slow motion, the broad sweep of Dean’s hand before the heavy slap landed, sending his head to the side and his face into the back of the couch. The unexpected violence from his own brother drew a soft, muffled cry from him as his nerveless fingers lost their grip on the bottle. It tumbled, caught the edge of the old coffee table and shattered before it hit the ground. A dull roar filled his ears followed a blinding flash of pain, making it almost impossible for him to understand what Dean was shouting at him. He’d hit him... Dean had struck him for real, like he was one of the things they hunted and killed. He’d drawn blood, and he wasn’t sorry. Sam could practically see Dean shaking with anger and hate, looking at him in a way he never had before. He was used to the anger and frustration... common expressions in Dean's eyes lately, but the hate... that ripped him up but good on the inside. He tried to keep the tears in, tried but failed to prevent himself from raising his arm in a protective motion in case a second blow followed. 

“You know what? Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want! Go out with your fucking ‘friends’! Go out fucking camping! Get out! Go get yourself gutted, or burned, or liquefied like the rest of the normal people out there! I don’t fucking care!” Dean practically screamed, launching his half full bottle of beer at the wall above Sam’s head before stalking back into the kitchen, grabbing his car keys off the shelf, and slamming the screen door so hard one of the hinges came off. A few seconds later he was in his car, one of his old classic rock tapes he knew Sam hated blaring at a deafening level as he peeled out of the garage, tires kicking up a mountain of dust on their dirt driveway as he floored it to the main road. He never once looked back. 

 

*

Dean was long gone and yet Sam's ears were still ringing with Dean’s last hateful words. 'Get out' he’d shouted, and Sam knew Dean meant it. Earlier, in the garage, he’d finally told the truth about being trapped ‘feeding him.’ Now this. Still dazed, Sam wiped his hand over his lip and wasn’t surprised at the blood on his palm. He’d tasted and smelled it, and now he his lip was stinging, reminding him again of the pain his brother had inflicted.

Fine, he’d go. The only reason he’d stuck around before was Dean. Even though his brother could treat him like shit, most of the time he hadn’t. Sam knew Dean had gone beyond the call of duty for him all his life, that he’d tried to play both mom and dad, that he’d protected him in ways Sam might never even really understand. He’d been there for him. Deep down, even though Dean had been the protector, Sam had always thought Dean needed him too. That they had a connection between them, a history, even the ability to almost read each other. It was something that Sam wasn’t sure that Dean was ready to let go of yet, or ever. That’s why he hadn’t run away sooner. Instead, he’d vowed to stick it out and slowly break the news to Dean that one day he’d be gone, just to college, but he’d be gone. 

He glanced at the door. Dean had just made the decision easier. He’d shown Sam that everything Sam thought he knew about Dean had been a lie. His brother didn’t need him. He was just doing his ‘duty’ by their dad and couldn’t wait to get rid of him. It's just how it was.

Sam made a mental list of all the things he would need to pack, then got up and took a determined step. Pain, sharper than Dean’s blow had him shouting and hopping to the other sofa, and dropping down. By the time he peeled his thinly soled sneakers off, there was blood all over the floor. The thick piece of glass that had sliced him had fallen off but there was a smaller one lodged in right next to the crescent shaped cut in the middle of his foot. Gritting his teeth and clamping down on the sound of pain, he gripped its edge and slowly eased it out, tears flowing as he started to curse and blame Dean. Now he couldn’t fucking ride his bike and get the hell away from here. From them. From _him_. 

That last thought, something that would never have crossed his mind before, cut him in places deep inside his heart. Pulling up from the couch, he headed for the bedroom, completely not caring about the bloody trail he was leaving as he tried not to step hard on his injured foot. 

In the room, he went ahead and packed, because it would give him something to do. And it made him feel like he was being proactive. He wasn’t anyone's doormat or punching bag, and he wasn’t the anchor and chain around their neck either. Fuck that. Fuck that and the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

He tossed the duffel bag next to his bed, then staggered to the bathroom. He dropped his shorts to the ground but kept his boxers on. Numb, he walked into the cold shower, letting the water wash the sweat and blood off him. He didn’t soap up, or dry off. Instead, he just walked back to his bed and flopped down on it cross-wise, lying on his stomach, and torturing himself with his thoughts until oblivion claimed him.

* * *

Dean had never had any trouble getting into bars. His father had given him his first fake ID when he was sixteen, mostly to help him hustle for some quick extra cash, but the older man never complained when Dean sat down with him at the bar for a beer or even hard liquor. Back then, whether he'd pass for twenty one had been a little iffy and his dad's presence helped. Now that Dean was nineteen, none of the bartenders ever looked sideways at him when he flashed his ID and asked for a drink. 

One of the bad things about small hick towns, especially small hick towns where they'd been holed up for a while, was that everyone knew everyone. Even in small run down bars. They would have pegged him for John's son, John's underage son, and kicked him out pretty much as soon as he walked through the door. So Dean had driven two towns over before stopping at the shittiest little run down shack of a waterhole he'd seen in months. It fit his mood perfectly.

His blood still boiling, Dean at first drank to try to cool his anger. Afterwards, he drank to numb his guilt for having actually hit Sam. This wasn’t him hitting Sam in a sparring match where neither of them pulled any punches, or when they wrestled and a stray elbow or knee might draw blood. He had hit his brother in anger. While part of him hated himself for it, a smaller part of him insisted the little fucktard had deserved it and he wasn't sorry, which only made him hate himself more. 

Sam hated him. Right now he supposed he couldn't really blame his brother after what he’d had done. Maybe he was crazy like Sam said. But everything he had ever done in his life had been for Sam. Ever since he'd carried his baby brother out of that fucking fire, he'd sworn he'd look after Sam, made sure nothing ever happened to him, made sure nothing and no one ever hurt him. He'd protected his little brother from bullies at school. He'd protected his little brother from all the fucking monsters out there, human and supernatural alike. He'd always made sure Sam had food in his belly and someplace to sleep, even when Dad wasn't always around to make that happen… and Sam hated him for it… 

But why shouldn't Sam hate him? Especially now? After he'd fucking hit the boy. Every time he thought of it he wanted to get back in his car and drive home with the gas pedal floored to make sure Sam was ok, to make sure Sam hadn't left, to say he was sorry, over and over, to say he was sorry for being such a fucked up brother. Maybe Sam hated him because a part of Sam knew about Dean's sick and twisted thoughts. He'd tried to keep them hidden, but maybe Sam had sensed them anyway. Sensed that when Dean looked at him, he sometimes noticed things he shouldn't be noticing. Maybe he somehow knew that Dean dreamed about kissing Sam's lips when they were pouting, or imagined how his brother's developing muscles would feel underneath his hands if he slid them it up underneath his shirt or down his jeans…

Dean drank to drown out his thoughts. To drown out his guilt. To drown out his anger. To drown out his need. To forget about how Sam hated him, and how he loved his brother way too damned much. The bar was the kind of place that didn't give a damn if the customers got into fights as long as no one was knifed and nothing was broken. That night Dean got into three brawls, two he won, the last one he lost only because there were five of them and he was so drunk by then he could barely stand. Still he was so gone by that point he barely felt the bruises, even though he limped quite a bit on his way out to his car. Shame that, after the way he'd hit his brother he deserved more than a little pain. 

Yeah, on some level he knew it was really fucking stupid to try driving home when he was this fucking drunk, but most of him didn't fucking care. He didn't even care when he tried to take a corner too fast and the Impala ran off the road, slamming into a tree. 

*

HE was hungry. So very hungry. 

He’d combed neighborhood after neighborhood and hadn’t found one who could satisfy him. Until now.

Waves of pain, of lust, of regret, of guilt and self loathing permeated the air. Impossible love. Impossible need. Dirty, forbidden, taboo… 

HE practically wailed as HE circled the air, seeking, searching the source of those emotions, practically tasting them, and envisioning himself gorging, exhausting his victim and exacting his price. It would be beautiful… 

There. It was coming from that vehicle smashed against a tree with its engine still running. Smiling, HE dropped to the ground and passed through the locked passenger door to sit down next to the driver. Handsome. Bleeding and marred, but handsome. More importantly, he was filled with emotions… they raged and battled in him constantly. HE could give this boy peace.

Touching his shoulder without any perceptible pressure, HE started to read what was in the boy’s mind. HE filtered through his memories, saw every triumph and every failure. So many self perceived failures, so many hurts and aches, and a secret, unspeakable desire for his brother. His… baby brother.

This would be easy, but HE had to be careful. This one was a hunter by nature. He’d have to be sucked in, immersed into the game before he figured out what was going on while he still had the strength to fight against it.

Pulling the visor down, HE looked at himself in the mirror. A teenager appeared in the mirror, with longish brown hair, a strong jaw for one so young, and eyes meant for the bedroom. No wonder that one, Dean, wanted this one, Sam. HE looked down at his long limbs and the firm muscles of a physically fit youth. Then he turned his sights on the driver, still slumped half way on the steering wheel.

Shutting the engine off, HE shook Dean. “Hey, Dean… wake up.” _Sam_ licked the blood off his mouth, but felt fresh blood forming. 

Dean groaned softly. He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He knew he was in the car… his car… but he wasn’t sure how he knew it. Probably from the steering wheel jammed against his ribs uncomfortably. His chest ached sharply with every slow breath he took. His head pounded like someone had been using a jackhammer on it. He could feel blood dripping down his face from somewhere in his hairline, his short hair already sticky with it. His face was bruised. He tasted blood in his mouth, on his lips…

The hunter in him ticked off one hurt after another by instinct but he still wasn’t sure what had happened. The fact that he knew he was in the car should have been a clue, the heavy smell of alcohol should have been another. But he was still having trouble putting two and two together. His head was swimming in an ocean of alcohol and pain and his thoughts moved like molasses on a cold day, slow and sluggish. 

His eyes slid open slowly, his vision fuzzy and unfocused. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and slowly the face of his brother swam into view. 

“Sammy?” He whispered, his voice unsure, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. What was Sam doing here? Something told him that Sam shouldn’t be here… he wasn’t sure why though… he couldn’t think… Maybe he was dreaming… or hallucinating… concussions could do that. Yeah, that had to be it because Sam was sitting in the seat next to him buck naked made no sense. If he was hallucinating though, couldn’t he hallucinate himself hurting a little less?

Dean managed to get his hands underneath him and tried to push himself away from the steering wheel a little, but almost immediately gave up with another groan of pain, letting himself slump weakly back against it. He blinked owlishly at his brother who may or may not have really been there but who was still definitely naked. Then again, if Sam really was there, maybe he had been in the accident too. Maybe he was hurt? “You ok, Sam?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. 

_Sam_ shook his head. “Not really.” He let that sink in, knowing the power the idea of a hurt Sam wielded over Dean Winchester. “You hurt me.” Taking Dean’s limp hand, he brought it to the corner of his mouth, where his lip was split. “You’re gonna make it better. After I fix you.” 

Not really? Was Sam hurt? Dean blinked, trying to force his mind to clear. Letting his eyes look more closely at his brother’s body, something he’d tried to avoid doing lately, but especially when the younger boy was lacking clothing… like now. But if Sam was hurt he had to know where so he could… Dean’s thoughts froze midway when Sam clarified. Reminding him how Dean himself had been the one to hurt him. How he’d… hit his brother… in anger earlier tonight. Dean inhaled sharply when the younger boy took his hand, pressing it to his jaw where it was bruised, Dean’s eyes tearing a little when he took in the younger boy’s split and swollen lip.

“I’m so…” Dean began to apologize, but again his thoughts not to mention his words were cut off when Sam leaned closer to him. Brushing up against him as the younger boy took the keys to his car out of the ignition then got out. Where was Sam going? Dean heard the trunk open and close, and then Sam returned with their first aid kit.

“Sit back,” _Sam_ said softly, using a cotton swab and alcohol to clean Dean’s wounds. Then he got on his knees on the chair, and leaned across Dean to take care of a cut below his far eye. _Sam_ concentrated hard, bringing his face close to Dean’s and holding his tongue in the corner of his mouth, just inches from Dean’s mouth. “Look up.” 

Dean wanted to ask his brother again if he were ok. But then Sam was cleaning his cuts and Dean closed his eyes, hissing softly at the sting of the alcohol. His brother was quick and efficient as always. His eyes fluttered open almost of their own will when Sam leaned over him. His heart beginning to beat a little faster and he couldn't fucking help it. Sam was so close. Looking at him so intently. His eyes focused. His pink tongue sticking out a little like he used to do when concentrating hard on something driving Dean crazy. Dean swallowed hard, lifting his chin so Sam could finish cleaning most of the blood off his face. He swore he could feel Sam's breath on his lips...   
Was this a dream? It felt so... real... but...

HE had Dean’s attention. HE had Dean's mind nice and clouded with need and with confusion… just enough to make this all seem like a dream, to make it okay for Dean to participate in what he wouldn’t do in the light of day. HE took his time, cleaning wounds that weren’t even there, focusing on them, on Dean like Dean was the center of his world.

The cotton slipped from his fingers. Eyes locked with Dean's, _Sam_ fumbled for it, his hands brushing repeatedly over Dean’s cock. Giving a rueful smile, he leaned down and gripping Dean’s thigh, reached between his legs to the floor board. He stretched, swaying back and forth a little.

Dean inhaled sharply and every aching muscle in Dean’s body drew taunt. The groan that escaped Dean’s lips was definitely not from pain and shame quickly followed. He was about to tell the younger boy to just forget about the damned cotton swab, when his brother’s head disappeared between Dean’s knees, giving Dean a splendid view of his long pale back. All soft pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight leading down to the perfect swell of his ass, and Dean itched to run his palms over the baby soft cheeks. 

Dean was breathing noticeably faster when Sam finally straightened.

Putting a hand on Dean's face, HE finished cleaning him up and tossed the cotton ball onto the passenger seat. “My turn, Dean.” Lifting his face, HE distinctly said, “kiss it better.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Kiss it…_

It was said so innocently. Like when Sam had been four and had fallen and skinned his knee on the sidewalk and Dad hadn’t been able to make him stop crying. Only his eight year old big brother had calmed him down when he’d kissed the tiny scrape better. Now the same request sent an incredible rush of heat straight south and his stomach twisted violently in shame as he felt himself hardening even more. 

Still the way Sam was looking at him. Hopeful, expectant, innocent… Dean found himself slowly leaning forward, letting his lips brush lightly over the boy’s lower lip where it had been cut by his own hand earlier. 

The surge of emotions in Dean sent the blood rushing beneath _Sam’s_ skin, making him flush all over. HE needed more, so much more from Dean. HE hardly moved as Dean’s mouth touched his lip, just touched. Before Dean could pull back, _Sam_ turned his head slightly, forcing Dean’s mouth to brush against his again. HE gave an audible intake of his breath and licked his lip, touching Dean’s with his tongue at the same time.

“Make it better, Dean. You know how.” HE pressed closer, feeling Dean’s heart knocking against his chest. Their mouths still barely touching, _Sam_ put his hand on Dean’s thigh, moving it up and down, hoping to confuse… to mix him up. A tear squeezed out of the corner of his eyes. “Take away the hurt. Make it better. Dean?”

Dean held his breath when Sam’s mouth brushed his again, and then it all rushed out of him when he felt the tip of his brother’s tongue touch his lips. His lips felt tight and he felt flushed all over. Sam’s desperate words making him groan… and God did he really sound so obscene? This was his little brother, damn it, he couldn’t. Sam…

_Better… make it better…_

This had to be a dream, this had to… he must have knocked his head really hard on the steering wheel, hell, maybe his head even went through the windshield. He must have a bad concussion, maybe he was even in a coma or something having a really fucked up vivid fantasy… and Dean couldn’t say he really cared. 

His breaths came out in short quick pants as Sam’s hand moved more firmly along his thigh. God, he was so hard. He ached… ached so damned much… Sam had been making him ache for years now. Take away the hurt… make it better… yes, he knew what would make it better...

When Dean pressed his mouth against his brother’s again it wasn’t light or chaste this time. Neither was the moan that escaped him, nor the hand that came to rest on the back of Sam's neck, pulling his brother closer, nor the tongue that slipped out of his mouth to swipe across his brother’s split lip, nor the way he sucked that sweet lower lip into his mouth. He felt the shame, he felt the guilt, he knew how sick he was for wanting this, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered to him but Sam’s exquisite taste as he pushed his tongue past those soft lips and into his sweet warm mouth. 

The more Dean fought, the more he drowned in his desires and was forced to relinquish his principles, the more he berated himself as he gave in to lust, the more HE enjoyed taking the essence of Dean’s emotions. So pure, unadulterated, so powerful, so delightful, it sent pure pleasure to every nerve center of his being. 

At first, _Sam_ was passive, letting Dean explore every corner of his mouth ever so gently, even as the pressure his hand was putting on the back of _Sam's_ head, holding him in place, told him Dean wanted much more. HE gave a low moan and curled his tongue experimentally around Dean’s, pushing himself closer. Mouths still locked together, HE pushed Dean against the back of the chair. Simultaneously, the chair slipped back, away from the steering wheel, and _Sam_ straddled Dean’s hips. The instant HE felt any resistance, HE moved against Dean, rubbing his ass too gently over Dean’s arousal, making him need so much more and pressing the hard knot of his own erection against Dean. His hands fluttered at the hem of Dean’s shirt, pushing it upwards 

Dean whimpered when he felt Sam’s tongue curl around his own, stroking gently, a little insecure, a little inexperienced, but so damned good. Then Sam was pushing him back, climbing into his lap, and Dean’s brain practically short circuited. He knew he shouldn’t… he knew they couldn’t… this was wrong, even if it was only a fucked up dream of his own perverted fantasies it was still wrong. Even if it was only in his mind, it was still his brother he was molesting… But the feel of Sam’s ass pressing down on his hard cock trapped inside his jeans erased all thoughts of stopping. 

Oh fuck, he was so hard, so hard he was hurting. His heart was beating so damned fast in his chest he thought he might just blow it out if this kept up. Maybe he should worry about a heart attack? Or a stroke? Maybe he was bleeding in his brain and that’s why he was hallucinating? He had just been in a fucking accident after all… but all Dean could really care about was Sam’s taste, the weight of him in his lap, his brother’s tongue in his mouth… even if it was just a fantasy, a fucked up illusion, dream whatever, he didn’t care.

His hands settled on the warm soft skin of his brother’s thighs and Dean groaned obscenely into his little brother’s mouth, making small encouraging sounds in his throat when he felt Sam’s hands on him. Never once stopping kissing his brother until he felt the younger boy’s hand pulling up his shirt. Only then did Dean tear his lips away from the younger boy’s, yanking off his shirt with little care of how his muscles screamed in protest of the movement. He felt blood dripping down his neck again, he tasted it from the various cuts on his face and his vision swam a little in and out of focus as he stared at his little brother. 

“Sammy…” Dean panted, groaning low in his throat when he felt Sam press closer, rubbing his hardening cock against his stomach. Dean’s hands settled on his brother’s ass. Tugging him closer, moaning as he kissed his brother again deeply, thrusting his tongue into that sweet young mouth and taking everything being offered. Not caring about the consequences. Encouraging Sam to fuck against him, his own hips lifting off the seat to rub against Sam’s ass. Groaning in pleasure and frustration at the layers of cloth still separating them, but too afraid to take that last step. 

_Sam_ put one hand on the ceiling and writhed almost too gently against his brother, deliberately heightening Dean’s frustration, fueling it with exaggerated gyrations of his body that enflamed rather than satisfied. HE made little sounds against his brother’s mouth, took quick audible breaths, all geared to seem innocent but to drive Dean to the very edge.

When Dean’s fingers started to bite into his skin, _Sam_ broke the kiss, leaned back and watched Dean under his lashes. He looked so deliciously tortured. So hot, so undecided, his eyes glazed with lust, his mouth wet with _Sam’s_ saliva. HE opened his mouth and licked around the edges of his lips, knowing HE had Dean’s rapt attention. In and out, HE let his own tongue suggest the other uses his mouth could be put to. HE knew the exact moment Dean got the message, the exact moment Dean felt _Sam's_ precome smearing cross his abs, and the exact moment there was no turning back.

Landing his mouth messily over Dean’s, HE kissed him... plastered himself against him like he’d never let go, raising and lowering himself... increasing the friction between his cock and Dean’s toned flesh, and his ass against Dean’s cock. This would last for hours and hours... he’d keep siphoning, never letting Dean have complete satisfaction... keep him wanting, so tomorrow night he’d be begging.... waiting... dying for him.

Dean’s head fell back against the seat with a moan that was as much pain as pleasure, as much satisfaction as frustration. His eyes glazed with lust and heavy with desire, he saw nothing but Sam, as he watched his beautiful little brother moving over him. He groaned at the feeling of the younger boy fucking against his stomach and rocking against his trapped erection. Feeling the hot slick trails Sam left across his skin had him shuddering with pleasure. It felt so good and hurt so much at the same, he couldn’t stop whimpering and moaning at the pleasure/pain.

“Sam… Sammy…” Dean panted his brother’s name over and over, his fingers digging into the warm flesh of the younger boy’s hips, sliding around to grip the soft round globes of his ass when his brother kissed him again. 

He was oblivious to everything but the soft wet tongue sliding in and out of his mouth, imagining what it might feel like on his nipples, on his cock. Sam’s cock was a heavy hot brand against his stomach and God what he wouldn’t give to wrap his lips around it, sucking and licking until his little brother’s seed exploded down his throat. He imagined his fingers delving into the hot crease of his ass, discovering the tight puckered hole, teasing it with his tongue and fingers, pushing inside, the first to ever explore that tight forbidden heat. 

He wanted it, needed it, so much. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was all kinds of evil and he was the worst kind of pervert in the world for wanting it, and he didn’t care. It was only a dream, only a fantasy, why couldn’t he have it now, just this once? 

Dean didn’t know how long it lasted. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t care how much the rest of him hurt, as long as Sam kept rubbing against him, letting him thrust against that perfect ass. He didn’t care about the blood he knew he was smearing across his brother’s pale flesh with his hands, or the blood stinging his eyes. He didn’t care about the darkness edging around his vision, only their pants and moans and the wet sound of their kisses drowning out everything else, even the sound of the sirens growing steadily louder. 

“Sammy…” He whispered, pleading for more, more of Sam’s kisses and touches, even as his grip on the younger boy grew slack and the darkness finally rose up to claim him. 

* * *   
The phone rang insistently despite Sam's futile attempts to ignore it and put a pillow over his head. Last night fresh in his mind and in his dreams, he felt like crap... like he hadn't slept. Dammit, why couldn't Dean get the phone? He had to get up early for work anyway.

Forcing an eye open and lifting his head, he looked over at his brother's bed. Empty. “Dean?” he shouted, knowing Dean could hear him from their dad’s room. Was it later than he thought? Was Dean gone? Then it hit him, Dean had probably never come home.

Right... it was okay for Dean to stay out all night without a ring of salt and protective spells. He wasn't gonna get the phone... it was probably Dean, feeling guilty or something. Let him. He fucking should.

The phone stopped for a few minutes, then started all over again. Cursing, Sam got off the bed, and instantly started to hop as his throbbing foot reminded him of his cuts. Course that made Dean public enemy number one since it was his damned fault. 

Huffing under his breath, he picked up the phone. "What?" His crabby tone subsided the minute he was told there had been an accident. Dean ... Dean had been in a car accident. Sam felt like the earth had been cut out from under him. For a moment, he stuttered out his questions, and then pulled himself together. Winchesters didn't fall apart when shit went down. 

Much calmer, he refused to answer their questions until they told him Dean's condition and he could breathe easier knowing his brother was banged up and had a concussion, but that he'd be fine. Then he muttered "No, dad's not here and I don't have car." The voice on the other end was suggesting a taxi but he hung up the phone.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was limping down the long hallway of the hospital.

* * *

Dean would rather fight a bunch of zombies than be in the hospital. Of course what made it worse was he'd awakened with the worst fucking headache of his life. He didn't know if this was due to the alcohol or the concussion. At least he'd had his fake ID and insurance card in his wallet, and they both had the same name on them. Of course both would be pretty much useless to him after this because the cops were sure to slap Dean Miller with a DUI the first chance they got. 

His dad was going to fucking kill him…

Dean had almost panicked for a moment when they told him they’d called his emergency contact before he remembered that Dad was away on a hunt. So maybe if he got the Impala out of impoundment and fixed her up before his father got back, he’d be less dead meat. Since he wasn’t a minor (according to his fake ID), they had to let him check out of the hospital, even though the doctor wanted to keep him for another day for observation. Fuck that, greedy money hungry bastards. His scans were all clean, he wasn’t bleeding into his brain, and he just wanted to go home, take a bottle of aspirin, and go to bed. Since asked them to call him a cab, the last thing he expected when he walked out of his room was to almost literally run into Sam. 

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, wondering for a moment if he were hallucinating… again… and wondering if maybe the doctors were right and he should stick around for a little while. Then Sam was hugging him and he was too stunned to mutter up his normal “no-chick-flick” protests. Of course with Sam pressed up so close to him and his breath fanning over his ear, all kinds of thoughts and feelings Dean had no intention of examining right now churned inside him and made him more nauseous. Thankfully he felt too much like crap for any part of him to react… inappropriate.

"Knew you had a hard head," Sam muttered. "You alright?"

“Ha ha.” Dean managed weakly at his brother’s lame joke, before grasping Sam’s shoulders and easing the younger boy away from him. He took stock of Sam’s worried face, the recent bruise on his jaw and the split lip. Guilt hit him swiftly like a kick to the gut and he released his brother and stared down at his shoes like they held all the answers to the universe. “I’m fine,” he answered, unsure what to say now. Considering the last words he’d spoken to his brother and that he’d hit him hard enough to make him bleed, the fact that he was here right now made Dean felt about two inches tall. 

Sam was sharply aware of the awkwardness. There was really nothing to be said. What happened, had happened. Neither of them would apologize... they’d act like it never happened, just like they did after many other blow ups. Only this one was different. Dean had never hit him like that before, and Sam wasn’t likely to forget. Still... he knew he’d pushed Dean’s buttons, mom being his biggest one, so maybe he should have expected it.

“They… called me a cab. To go home…” Dean said, starting with the obvious, anything to get them past standing here in the middle of the hospital corridor. He was starting to sway a little unsteadily on his feet. If he fell on his ass in the hall way they would never let him leave…

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I got Jake’s cousin to drive me over. He just graduated and has a car. He’s gonna give us a ride." Sure he knew Dean didn’t like his redneck friends, but it was better than paying for a taxi and even Dean would have to agree. “Want a wheelchair?” he asked, jutting his jaw toward some chairs lined against the wall and smirking as he put his shoulder under Dean’s arm and started to help him walk. He tried to cover up his own limp.

Dean shot him a sour look but went along. He might not like the kid his brother had been hanging around with or his family, but it wasn’t like they really had the extra cash to spare anyway, especially if he was going to be out of work for a few days. Fuck, he should have already been at work. He was sure Susan would understand, he had been unconscious at the fucking hospital after a car accident after all, but he needed this job and couldn’t afford to have her give it to someone else. 

“So what happened?” Sam asked ash they headed toward the parking lot. "They said you hit a tree.” There was a note of disbelief in his voice and he expected Dean to clarify their story. It was a hundred times more likely that Dean had plowed over a demon or something that had wrecked the car. 

Dean sighed. There wasn’t any point to lying to his brother. Right now Dean didn’t think he could come up with anything convincing and knew Sam would needle him about it endlessly until he got to the truth. “I was drunk,” he said simply, hoping his brother would save the lecture. 

“Drunk.” Sam looking over to search Dean’s face. There wasn’t a hint of a joke or any indication he was hiding something, he just looked weary. “Dean, you know better. You could have—“

They were outside and Jake’s cousin was honking his horn like they were going to a party or something. Sighing, Sam gave Dean a look that said this wasn’t finished, then he tugged the door of the truck open. Favoring one foot, he got inside and scooted to the center, leaving room for Dean to get in next to him.

_Country music._

Sam grinned as he looked at Dean’s pained expression. Dean liked to inflict some of his loud-assed music on him so it was fun seeing Dean having to take someone else’s crap.

“Toby, this is Dean. My brother.”

Toby looked Dean over. “He doesn’t look that tough for the hard ass you say he is.”

Sighing again, Sam just looked out the front window. It was gonna be a long drive.

The entire drive, Dean remained silent, staring out the passenger side window and tuning out the idiot driving just as he tuned out the music, if you could even call that crap music. It was more like torture for the auditory senses. He rested his head against the glass and pressed as close to the door as he could so he and Sam weren’t touching. He also made sure to keep his breaths shallow, so he wouldn’t smell his brother’s scent. All of his senses seemed hyper-aware of the younger boy right now and he couldn’t turn them off. Unfortunately not looking at Sam, not touching Sam, not smelling Sam, did nothing to stop the memories of his dream from torturing him. He still remembered how beautiful Sam had looked writhing on his lap. He still remembered the taste of the younger boy’s lips and flesh. He still remembered the sounds of his brother’s moans and the feel of his bare skin beneath his hands…

When they finally got home the truck was barely stopped before Dean opened the door and got out, heading straight for the front door as fast as he could without even an offer of thanks for the ride. After letting himself inside the house Dean went straight for the medicine cabinet and downed about five aspirin at once. 

“I’m going to bed.” Dean called out when he heard the door open but didn’t look at his brother as he headed down the hall to their father’s room. When John was away, it was pretty much a given Dean would take his room for himself. He’d call work later… Dean decided as he collapsed face down on the bed with a groan, hoping sleep would claim him quickly. Instead, he heard the door of their father’s room open and groaned almost inaudibly into the pillow. God damn it, why couldn’t Sam just give him a little break? Couldn’t he go back to torturing him after he’d slept off the worst of this fucking hangover/concussion? Was that really too much to ask?

“I called your boss. She said to just call her tonight and let her know if you’ll be in tomorrow.” 

Dean was a little bit surprised when the Sam didn’t launch into his aborted lecture regarding drunk driving and how he could have gotten himself killed instead of just his head banged bad enough to have a really fucking hot dream about having sex with his baby brother… He was so stunned he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, and he just laid there for a moment, wondering if he was hallucinating again, until he heard the floor board creek signaling that the Sam was going leaving.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean finally spoke, hopefully loud enough for his brother to hear even though he didn’t lift his head from the pillow. He didn't want Sam to see the telltale wetness in his eyes from the sudden emotions that welled up inside of him threatening to choke him. 

*

Sam left the door slightly ajar and headed to the living room. About to flop down onto the sofa, he saw the bloodied mess he'd left, not that he'd forgotten... his foot still throbbed with each step he took. Getting the dust bin, he took care of all the glass. Then he used a wet cloth to rub the blood stains out of the wooden floor. Crap, a pinkish tinge remained because he'd left it there too long and it had sunk into the wood. 

Getting some hydrogen peroxide, Sam worked on it some more, scrubbing mindlessly at it. Only his mind had different ideas and was working hard on the events that lead to the car accident. He kept reviewing what he'd said to Dean, right before big brother popped him and his world turned on its axis. He'd seen Dean as a lot of things in his life time. Caretaker. Big brother. Protector. Dad's asshole lieutenant. Friend. The one person he would trust to be at his back anytime, anyplace. But never enemy. Never someone who'd hit him in anger like that. He'd seen a flash in his brother's eyes, like he hadn't wanted to stop beating him. And that made Sam sick, because he didn't want to believe it. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see that he'd deserved it. God he wanted to talk it out with Dean, cause he didn't know what to do now. He'd been ready to hit the road today, he still might later, but not while Dean was recovering. He had to make sure his brother was okay, before he left him and gave him the chance to live the life he wanted.

As the day progressed and got hotter, Sam became more restless. He'd taken water and aspirin to Dean a couple of times, but there had been no conversation. Whether Dean was in pain from the alcohol or accident, he wasn't saying. After watching some pt., and taking a book out to the porch and reading for a while, Sam realized he was getting hungry. There wasn't much in the cabinets or fridge, not even cereal. Well there was cereal, but he'd finished the milk.

Pulling himself up, he went inside and changed the bandages on his foot, then shoved his foot into sneakers. Taking a quick look into Dean's room, he left quietly, grabbing a twenty out of his brother's wallet.

Another moment later, he was bicycling away toward town. At least the sun would set on his way back and it would be a little cooler. Who was he kidding, it would be just as hot but the sun wouldn't beat down on him. 

* * *

Dean had slept for most of the day. At some point he’d taken off his shirt and didn’t even bother getting underneath the light sheet because it was so fucking hot. The heat must have been making him more nauseous because he didn't think it was just from the concussion and hangover. Maybe he'd gotten up to throw up a few times too, but he didn’t really remember.

It was approaching evening now, he could tell by the slant of the light coming through the window falling across his sweaty back. He didn’t feel quite as sick as before, thank God. He must have slept off most of the effects of the hangover though his head still pounded fiercely. Aspirin… definitely more aspirin was needed. Sam hadn’t brought him any for a while, he must have gotten tired of playing nurse maid for his pathetic older brother. 

Groaning softly, he pushed himself up from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After relieving himself, taking a few more painkillers and brushing the foulness from his teeth, he felt marginally more human. As he made his way into the kitchen, he telephoned his boss. He reassured her that he was fine, nothing was broken, and yes he’d be in to work tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to be out of work, especially now that he’d probably have to pay to get the Impala out of impoundment and get her fixed up. Maybe he could work extra hours for the next few days.

His brother was probably hungry by now. Damn it, he needed to go grocery shopping, which was going to be pretty tough to do without a fucking car. He thought there might be a package of frozen hot dogs in the fridge and a can of beans left under the counter, unless Sam already finished them off. Guess he should make sure his brother hadn’t already eaten before he cooked anything, he wasn’t feeling up to eating anything himself.

“Sammy?” He called and frowned slightly when he didn’t get an answer. The TV wasn’t on but he checked the living room anyway in case his brother was reading (the geek) or taking a nap, then he checked outside on the porch. Lastly he checked their room and froze in the doorway. Sam wasn’t there, but seeing his clothes strewn about and the packed duffel by the bed, Dean felt himself go cold.

He’d told Sam to get out… to leave… He hadn’t meant it, he’d been angry, pissed… hurt… by what his brother had said. But he hadn’t meant it. He didn’t want Sam to go, he loved that boy more than anything despite what a pain in the ass he could be. He never thought Sam would actually leave… even if Sam did hate him…

“Sam!” Dean ran back to the door, throwing it open and calling his brother’s name desperately. God damn it. Dad was going to kill him… if Dean didn’t kill himself first. He didn’t even have a car and couldn’t go looking for Sam, dammit. He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Sam’s bag had still been in his room, which meant the boy hadn’t actually left, he’d just gone out, right? Sam wasn’t dumb enough to just take off with only the shirt on his back. God damn him, he was going to kill that brat for taking off without telling him. He didn’t care if Sam was almost sixteen, he was going to take him over his knee the minute he stepped through that door… if he came back…

Feeling sick, like he just might throw up again, Dean went back into the house and collapsed on the sofa in the living room, burying his face in his hands. Hot tears burned his eyes and his throat was tight with despair. 

“Please come back… Sammy…”

* * *  
It was a long hot ride, so once he got to town, Sam was more than happy to hang out for a little while and relax. He’d cooled off in the grocery store, taking his time as he picked up a few necessities. After wasting as much time as he could “using” the store's air conditioning to cool himself the hell off, he walked out and crossed the street to the diner. There, he ran into some kids from school and had a coke with them. They were swapping stories about what they’d done or would do over summer vacation and when they turned to him, he just gave an unsmiling shrug. “Nothing planned.”

Yeah, how lame did that sound? It wasn’t always gonna be this way, he told himself. One day he’d have real plans, the kind you could share with people. Someday he wouldn’t have to lie about why no one could come over, why group homework had to be done in the library or at someone else’s home. He changed the topic and then was a bit surprised at home many of them didn’t plan on taking the SATs. Their parents wanted them to, but they couldn’t be bothered. He gave a semi bitter laugh. Life sucked.

One of the girls mentioned a party in a few days and he just nodded but knew he probably wouldn’t go. If he stayed, Dean would find ten reasons why he shouldn’t be out at night. Right, well maybe he wouldn’t tell Dean. Maybe he’d just go.

When he noticed it was starting to get dark, he headed for the counter and got two burgers and a soup, making sure they packed them well. He also took back the milk and ice cream he'd given them to hold for him in their fridge as a favor. Stuffing the sandwiches into his backpack with the rest of the groceries, he was stuck having to hang the plastic bag with the soup over his handle bars. Yeah… he looked like a dork. Hoping no one he knew had seen him, he took off, pedaling as fast as he could despite the burning sensation under one foot. 

It was cooler now, but the air was still warm and sticky, and the exercise had him covered in a sheen of sweat by the time he got home and hopped off, pushing the bike up against the porch wall. 

The light on the porch was on so Dean had to be up, or had been at some point. 

* 

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d sat on the couch before he forced himself to do something “productive” than wallowing in guilt and misery. First, calling in every favor he could and using up most of what little he had in the bank, he paid the fine to get his car out of impoundment and to a local garage. He had a friend at the garage so he’d be able to keep it there, though he couldn’t afford to have it fixed and would have to do that himself. That wasn't so much a bad thing except until he was done, he'd be without a car and would have to walk everywhere. 

Next, even though he really fucking didn’t want to right now, he called their father knowing the older man would expect an update. Of course he’d lied out his ass, telling him everything was fine, there was no trouble at all. Either he’d gotten a lot better at lying to his father than he realized or his dad was just too distracted by the hunt right now to notice it. Whatever the reason Dean was glad when his father didn’t ask any questions and gave his typical “take care of your brother” line before hanging up.

Dean had run to the bathroom and thrown up again after the phone call. He'd spent the next few hours curled up on the couch, waiting. Feeling sick in body, heart, and soul. Every time he thought he heard a noise outside he’d gotten up and rushed to the door, expecting, hoping, it was Sam… every time he returned to the couch feeling just a little more sick. What if Sam didn’t come home? What if his brother really had decided to simply leave?

Dean wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen asleep, passed out was more like it, but he woke up to the sound of his brother’s voice calling his name and for a moment he thought the younger boy standing in front of him was just a dream. He stared at Sam mutely for a few minutes before slowly pushing up to more or less sitting position. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Dean was a little surprised by how soft and rough his voice sounded, very unlike the angry shout he’d imagined when he'd thought about Sam getting back. 

"In town. Got some food,” Sam answered with a shrug, looking at Dean, really looking at him. It was as if there was some secret message that Dean was trying to convey, but if there was, he didn’t get it. 

Dean found he had no response to the simple reply. He found himself wanting to both wring the his Sam’s neck for going out without telling him and scaring the shit out of him and wanting to hug his brother as tightly as he possibly could and to beg Sam to promise not to leave. The packed duffel bag was still fresh in his mind. 

When Dean didn’t say anything immediately, Sam put his hand out to touch Dean’s forehead. He was warm and clammy, but then it was still so freakin’ hot. “You’re kind of flushed, maybe you should hit the shower, cool off. Even if you don’t have a fever you’ll feel better. I’ve been doing it all day. Could it be hotter?” 

Sam's unexpected touch had Dean stunned and motionless. Memories of the dream he'd had after the accident sifted through his mind. Sam’s hands touching his face, cleaning the cuts, taking care of him and then climbing into his lap, all soft skin and slender muscles. In a delayed reaction, Dean jerked, pulling back from Sam’s touch like it burned. Snapping himself out of the memories, he was glad that he was already flushed and didn’t have to explain it. Not like he could, not like he ever would.

Rolling his eyes, Sam walked away to put the milk and ice cream in the fridge. For a few moments, he let the cold air from the fridge cool him off, but he couldn’t stand there all night. When he got back, he took his burger out of the bag, and then put the sandwich and soup out in front of Dean. “I got some milk and ice cream, too,” he said as he dug into his pocket and brought out Dean’s change, putting it on the table. “Took a twenty from your wallet.” His eyes searched Dean’s again to see if that was okay. Usually, he wouldn’t give it a second thought, but lately Dean had been acting strange and had been all over his case about everything. Maybe he should have skipped the ice cream, but it had been on sale.

Still a little tense with worry, he went to the other side of the coffee table and dropped down to the ground, toeing his shoes off and crossing his long legs. Maybe if they got through just one night with no arguments, maybe things would go back to normal. Maybe. 

Dean simply stared at the money, saying nothing. He just didn’t know what to say. Sam’s silence and brooding anger over the last few days, his scalding insults about him and their family, the younger boy’s uncaring words about their mother, it was all so fresh in his mind despite how he’d tried to drown it out with alcohol last night. So was how he’d hit his brother, and the dream… Sam begging him to make it better, practically begging for his kisses, his touches, moaning and rocking in his lap, rubbing his hard dick against his stomach…  
And his brother was sitting across the table from him now, completely oblivious to Dean’s turmoil and filthy thoughts. It was easier not to look at Sam, so he wouldn’t see that split lip and bruise and remember how Sam had tasted. It was easier to get up, mumble something about a shower and stumble down the hall to the bathroom, than to be in Sam’s presence. 

Watching Dean get up so abruptly, barely saying a word to him since he’d entered the room, Sam felt a familiar tension in his belly. His brother’s censure and disapproval often made him feel just like this, only right now, he had no clue what he’d done wrong. Was it taking the money? Was it the ice cream. Was it just existing?

He took another bite of his burger but the edge of his hunger was gone. And so was the light in his eyes. Nothing he did lately was good enough. Nothing. And everything he said was wrong. Had he changed that much? Or was Dean just tired of him?

Dropping his food, he rocked back, thinking of the things Dean had said in the garage last night. And later, worse things. Wanting him gone. His eyes got a bit moist but he vowed not to cry and turned the TV on instead, loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It worked for a time, but after nearly forty-five minutes passed without Dean emerging from the bathroom, he got up. He practically stormed to the bathroom, knocked once, and walked inside. “Dean,” he called out, unceremoniously pulling the shower curtain aside and seeing his brother standing under the water. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Sam asked bluntly, unable to hold back the painful question that burned in his gut. “I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t Dean, but it has to be pretty bad 'cause the way you look at me...” He ran his hand through his hair, looking at his brother's face and seeking answers.

Before, Dean nearly always felt half hard whenever his little brother was around, now with that damned dream fresh in his mind… He wasn’t sure how long he'd stood underneath the icy spray, refusing to turn the temperature up even a little. He was shivering, his teeth practically aching with the cold. He'd refused to answer Sam's knock and but Sam was here before he could yell at him to get the fuck out. Now Dean could only stand there, soaking wet, shivering, and buck naked staring at the younger boy with wide eyes and lips slightly parted. 

Did he want him to leave? Don’t know what he did wrong? Like all of this was his fault?! Dean closed his mouth and his eyes turned hard, his earlier misery and fear quickly sparking over to anger. So Sam wanted him to spell out what was wrong? Fine. “Oh, nothing’s wrong. Everything is peachy. Not like you refused to speak to me for days. Not like you’re constantly telling me how much you hate your life, me, and Dad. Not like you told me you don’t give a damn about our mother. Not like I went into your room and saw your packed bag and thought you were gone. How the hell do you want me to look at you?” 

Sam flinched at the attack. Dean had no idea how much he could hurt him just with his disapproval, just with a look. But when he put stuff into words, it was so much worse. Almost as bad as the physical blow he’d dealt. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he realize it? His brother had always read him so well, didn’t he care? Was he doing this to him on purpose? Did he think that just because he was younger, he’d just take it?

“Not like I have anyone else to tell things to around here. Not like you didn’t tell me you’re tired of working to feed me. Not like you didn’t tell me to get the hell out,” he shouted right back. He didn't mention mom, or how out of control Dean had been when he struck him. His throat constricted, his eyes stung with unshed tears. “I should’a gone last night... I would have.” Staggering blindly back, he found the door handle and walked out, leaving the door wide open. Dean was right, he hated his life right now. The one thing that had made it bearable was gone. His brother. 

Stalking to his room, he grabbed his duffel bag. He looked at the stack of books by his bed, then turned away from them, from everything that was home. Back in the living room, he grabbed the change Dean had left on the table.

Glancing one last time down the hall toward the bathroom, he walked out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind him. Stomach churning, almost aching, he walked out of the yard and headed down the lonely road. 

He didn’t have far to go to get to the bus stop where he sat, tears now streaming down his face. His brother, his own brother was treating him like he was shit. He didn’t take crap from his dad, he wasn’t gonna take it from Dean. He didn’t expect it from him. 

Sam kept wiping his cheeks with the heel of his hand, but there was always more wetness and it bugged the heck out of him. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he shouldn’t be crying. He needed to man up. He needed to develop a thick skin, to not care what they thought, what Dean thought. Pulling his feet up onto the bench, he put his arms around his knees and rested his head. His face stuck to his knees, but the heat didn’t bother him now... he had other things to think about.

* * *  
Sam hadn’t denied any of it. He hadn’t denied that he hated their father. He hadn’t denied that he hated Dean. He hadn’t denied that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about their mom having been killed. He simply threw in his face all the things he'd said about working to feed Sam, which he had never said he was tired of, which he’d never considered a hardship. He’d just been angry at Sam for his childish attitude regarding that stupid camping trip when Dean had more important things to worry about. Like taking care of his brother and keeping him safe. 

Then Sam went further, flaying him alive, reminding him of how he’d told Sam to “get out,” something else he’d said in a fit of anger because Sam pushed all his buttons and then some. Of course he hadn’t meant it. The terror he’d felt when he thought Sam had left earlier was proof enough of that. And as though Dean wasn’t ripping himself up inside with guilt over what happened yesterday… his brother went on to confirm he had been ready to leave last night… 

Why hadn’t he? Did it even matter now?

It would have been far kinder if Sam had simply ripped his chest open and torn out his heart with his bare hands and stomped on it. He wished Sam had. 

When he heard the front door slam, Dean fell back against the shower wall then collapse in slow motion down to the cold tile floor. Not that he really felt the cold anymore. 

Every part of his being wanted to run after his brother. Wanted to grab him and shake sense into him. To yell at him to stop acting like a fucking idiot. To yell at him to stop being so fucking selfish, he wasn’t the only one who had it tough, he wasn’t the only one who made sacrifices, for the job, for their family, they all did, even dad. Another part of him wanted to fall on his knees in front of the younger boy, beg Sam for forgiveness, and promise his brother anything he wanted as long as he didn’t leave. Instead he simply sat there. Sam had made himself very clear. Sam hated him. Hated everything about their life. He didn’t want to stay, so what could Dean possibly say to change his mind? 

Absolutely nothing. He couldn’t change Dad. He couldn’t change himself. He couldn’t change his life. He’d done everything in his power his whole life to take care of Sam and try to make him happy, but that wasn’t good enough anymore. It obviously never had been. So Dean merely sat there, like the useless thing he was, wondering if it was possible to die of hypothermia in a heat wave. Not that he really cared as the icy cold water raining over him rinsing his silent tears down the drain. 

* * *   
Hours had to have gone by. Sam didn't have a watch on but he guessed maybe it was about nine or ten. It was pitch black out here, with only the porch lights from distant houses dotting the street and the occasional streak of lights from a passing car.

Idiot. It would have been so much better to just have kept going once he’d biked to town. No, he'd thought Dean would want food... but big brother had pretty much rejected that. Then he'd shown just how much he hated him. 

Eyes squeezed tight, Sam tried to think when he'd first noticed that sometimes Dean acted like he couldn't stand being in the same room. He'd told himself it was his imagination because most of the time, Dean was his rock. He came through in so many ways for him. He playing the referee between him and his dad, and acted as a buffer. They got along too, except when Dean overdid his “dad's soldier boy” act.

Thoughts of how kind and wonderful Dean could be, how he was the only one Sam could count on had new tears rolling down his cheeks. Things had changed. He wasn't the cute little kid that followed Dean around anymore, now he was just the 'pain in his ass' who had a mouth on him and dared to ask questions. Dean couldn’t stand that he’d grown up, that had to be it.

He didn't know when he realized that the hot moisture on his cheeks weren't just tears. It had started to rain. Great. Curling up onto the bus stop bench and resting his head on the back, his tears mixed with the rain. Once, his big brother would have come running after him, wrapped his strong arms around him and told him everything would be fine. He'd have made it all better, made the hurt go away. Now he caused a lot of it and _never_ took anything back. Now it was like Sam was the enemy.

"Fine Dean... have a happy life." He huffed, and even if he was bitter, he meant it. He really did. Or he would mean it, once this town was behind him.

* * *

When Dean finally got out of the shower he felt like a zombie. His mind completely disconnected from all thought, his body moving only on instinct. He felt numb as he stumbled out of the tub, but at the same time, every inch of him hurt. Mind, body, and soul, and he just wanted the pain to go away.

Grabbing the first bottle of painkillers he found in the first aid kit under the sink, he walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen without bothering to cover up. Searching in a cupboard, he took down his father's bottle of Jack Daniels.

With the pills and the liquor Dean made his way into the living room and sat down on the couch. His untouched food and Sam's barely eaten meal were still there and Dean kicked at the rickety coffee table violently. It tipped over and spilled everything onto the floor but he didn't care. 

He snapped open the bottle of pills and upended it into his mouth, not sure exactly how many he swallowed down with a long pull from the Jack. The liquor burned and numbed his throat. Soon he knew he would be completely numb, he wouldn't be able to feel anything and that's what he wanted. 

He was tired of feeling hurt, guilty, and ashamed. He was sick. He was a monster. That had to be why Sam hated him so much now. His brother must have realized the twisted thoughts going on in his head. Sensed them, if not understood them, and was disgusted. Why wouldn't he be? His own brother lusting after him… no wonder Sam wanted to leave, had left… Maybe Sam would be better off...

He was too numb to feel the tears spilling down his cheeks again. Dean dropped the pill bottle and stretched out on the couch, occasionally drinking the Jack Daniels, polishing off a good quarter of the hard liquor before he knew it. His Dad was going to kill him for not looking after Sammy, for the sick twisted thoughts going through his head, for letting Sam leave…

*

The pain... the self-hatred... the emotions were so thick in the air, they fanned his needs, igniting his desire to feed. Dean... such a lovely source of energy... so ripe for the taking, and HE wasn’t about to resist. Having left ‘feelers’ around his prey and able to sift through Dean’s mind and emotions, HE knew exactly what had the elder Winchester in knots, it was his younger brother, it was always Sam. Fool... he’d let Sam go. But HE wouldn’t allow that, not when Sam was the source of these intense emotions.

Dropping down next to the couch and sitting on the floor, HE was the spitting image of young Sam Winchester. Almond shaped hazel eyes set at an angle, sharp features and a jaw that would in the future become even more prominent. A slender, lanky build, with well-defined muscles. Nothing could distinguish him from the real thing. Not his voice, not his mannerisms, and not his taste or scent. For all intents and purposes, he was Sam.

HE sat shirtless, in shorts, legs crossed and watching Dean for a long moment, watching the wet tears slide down his cheeks, noticing the whiteness of the knuckles gripping the bottle as if holding on for dear life. The scent of his despair was intoxicating.

 _Sam_ put his palm low on Dean’s bare belly, his long pinky almost touching Dean’s flaccid penis. “Don’t cry Dean, please don’t.” HE moved his hand slightly, leaning in so his face hovered over Dean’s chest and HE was looking into his brother’s eyes. “Not over me.”

The touch of the warm hand against the bare skin of his stomach made Dean flinch slightly in surprise. 

What the…

Somehow he managed to force his eyes open despite the fact that they felt like they’d been glued shut with crazy glue. He was so fucking tired from the pills or the liquor, he wasn’t sure which. Most likely it was the mixing of both in his gut making everything thick and fuzzy in his head. 

It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling but at least the pain in his head from the concussion was gone. Hmmm… maybe they should prescribe this remedy in the hospital. He’d have to remember it for the future. Too bad he couldn’t remember what he had taken or even how much. 

Dean blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. Everything swam together and when he turned his head, the room itself felt like it was tilting. Whoa… he hoped he didn’t throw up. His brother’s concerned face finally swam into view and Dean blinked a little stupidly at the younger boy.

Sammy? No… Sammy was gone. Sammy had left. Sammy hated him… Crying… was he crying? He lifted one hand to his face, found he had a difficult time finding it, but finally did and his fingers definitely came away from his cheeks wet. Huh… he supposed he was crying. Because his brother was gone, had left, because Sam hated him…

Dean’s breath hitched a little in his throat as he turned his eyes back to the younger boy. His wet fingers slowly reaching out to run across Sam’s cheek. Warm… soft… Sam was here. He hadn’t left? He thought Sam had left, was gone forever, but Sam was back. Dean felt the cold pain in his heart melt away just a little. Damn, he hadn’t even noticed it was still there, it hadn’t been warmed in the least by the burning liquor, but now it had eased that tiny bit. Warmed by Sam’s presence…

HE licked his lips and looked down, too shy to look into Dean’s eyes. “I could make you feel better, like you did for me. Drive everything... the pain... the sadness... all of it out of your mind, if you want me to.” His lips curved into a small smile and a slight flush crawled up his cheeks. HE hesitated then looked up. “I could do it better than that,“ his gaze shifted to the bottle and back. “I want to taste it on your tongue.” 

“Sammy…” Dean whispered his brother’s name, slurring as he cupped the younger boy’s cheek in his palm. Yes, he wanted the pain gone, he wanted the sadness gone, he wanted the longing gone… he wanted Sam. “I want…”

“Me. You want me.” Smiling, _Sam_ turned his face into Dean’s palm, hiding briefly from him. HE stuck his wet tongue out and swept it up and down, tasting the salty remains of Dean’s tears on his palm and hearing the sharp intake of Dean’s breath, pulled back. HE took in Dean’s flushed face and the brightness of the eyes focused on him... only him. Bringing his mouth messily down over Dean’s, he licked his thick full lips, tracing their outline. HE reveled in the Dean’s tangible need festering to the surface, played with it, wanted it, needed it to sharpen, to hurt, to overwhelm the teenager, and it would. The instant Dean's mouth moved under his, HE pulled away.

Yes. He wanted Sam. He wanted Sam so much it hurt. It hurt when his brother was near him. It hurt even worse when Sam was gone. But Sam was back now… his brother was back, and he couldn’t stop from gasping sharply when the younger boy nuzzled into his palm, licking at it and Dean felt a flush travel along the entire length of his body, pooling in his groin. “Sammy…” Dean breathed again, almost in awe, and then Sam’s soft lips were on his and he forgot how to think. All that mattered was the feel of those soft lips caressing his own, that slick wet, hot tongue licking and Dean couldn’t contain the groan of desire that escaped his throat. He eagerly parted his lips but his brother pulled back and that familiar cold panic settled in Dean’s gut. He’d pushed too fast, Sam didn’t really want this, he’d disgusted the younger boy with his sick desires. But Sam didn’t run away from him, he was still so close Dean could feel his soft panting breaths against his face and it made Dean’s lips feel tight and tingle in anticipation. His fingers itching to reach out and pull Sam back down to him but he was frozen by that ever present fear when he was around Sam lately.

HE watched the play of emotions on Dean's face, the shear panic, the silent gut-wrenching pleas. Dean was so easy, his emotions so fulfilling, so ripe for the taking. HE managed to resist for another long moment, leaving Dean aching, making him want it so bad he would give anything for another taste. And then, when HE couldn't resist anymore and lowered his face, offering his mouth to Dean. 

As they kissed, _Sam_ slowly moved his hand in circles over Dean’s stomach, each time a little lower, until his palm was sliding down and up Dean’s shaft. Every so often, HE would stop, as if to forget, then start up again. With each pass of his hand, his brother’s satin-soft skin stretched tauter over his hardening cock, filling _Sam_ with a sensation of power. More, HE wanted more... of Dean needing, wanting, craving... HE kissed him harder, worked harder to make Dean forget everything... everything but this... 

Don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t hate me… Dean begged silently, looking up into brother’s eyes. And then Sam kissed him again and the fragile threads holding him back all snapped at once. The bottle of booze long forgotten fell to the floor and his hands found their way into Sam’s soft hair, tangling in it as he held Sam close and his tongue slipped between his brother’s parted lips.   
He savored the delicious taste of his little brother as he explored every inch of that hot wet mouth, gasping against his brother’s soft lips when he felt the younger boy’s hand sliding lower on his stomach. Touching him… oh God… oh fuck… caressing his cock… Tracing up and down his length, and he was so hard so fast it hurt. He moaned helplessly into the younger boy’s mouth.

Sam… Sammy… Sam…

Dean whined every time his brother’s almost tentative touches along his flesh stopped for even a moment, his hips bucking up against his will, seeking more. He was so hard already he was leaking, precome pooling against his belly. His hands slid through Sam’s soft hair, down his neck, stroking along his bare back, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, and when he could no longer stand the ache he grasped Sam and pulled him up onto the couch. Letting Sam straddle his hips, Dean rubbed his hard dick against his brother’s ass, leaving a damp trail on the younger boy’s shorts. 

Dean groaned loudly, obscenely, needy, and the sound that broke out of him made him freeze and look up at his brother almost fearfully. Had he gone too far too fast?

The fear in Dean’s eyes was absolutely delicious. Stopping all of his movements _Sam_ passively stared right back at his brother, torturing him for a spell... letting him stew in his fear and guilt. So good, so fucking good... HE fed on Dean’s need, enflaming it, lusting after Dean’s lust... Noting how he flinched and tensed. Sifting through his mind, HE knew the boy expected him to lash out and was prepared to take any punishment that was meted out. HE let him wait for it, let the fear build, then grabbed Dean’s hand and placed it over his own cock straining against his shorts. “Me too,” HE said, pressing Dean’s hand down and starting to once again grind his ass over Dean’s cock. 

Surprised, Dean drew in a sharp breath. Oh God… feeling his little brother’s hard cock in his shorts, the heat seeping through the material and burning into his palm like a brand made Dean groan almost in pain. He needed no further encouragement. Squeezing his brother’s dick through his jeans, he groaned as he rubbed up against Sam harder and harder. The movement of his hips practically lifted the younger boy up from the couch, the friction between them was almost more pain than pleasure but Dean couldn’t stop. The idea of coming against his brother’s ass, his spunk soaking the material of his shorts, made Dean moan. It was a wonder he didn’t blow right then and there.

“Sam… Sammy…” Dean whimpered until Sam was kissing him again, and he practically fucked the younger boy’s mouth with his tongue. His other hand sliding through Sam’s hair, down the younger boy’s back, slipping underneath his shorts to squeeze his ass while Sam’s lips did sweet evil things to his neck and chest. 

Oh God, this had to be a dream, it was too perfect…

HE straightened and looked down at Dean. “I ... I saw an internet site where...” HE licked his lips and looked like he was in agony. “Do you want me to try to suck you off, Dean?”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was looking at him, so sweet and innocent, so eager and fearful and when he offered to give him a blow job, Dean's heart nearly stopped. Yes! Oh god, yes! He was so hard he hurt. It probably wouldn’t take much more than the touch of those soft sweet lips to the head of his cock to make him come all over his baby brother’s face. He was a little surprised he hadn’t come already. He wanted to beg for it, but the uncertainty in his brother's eyes stopped him. “You… you don’t have to…” Dean finally managed, unable to say 'yes' or 'no'. 

HE knew how much it took for Dean to let Sam off the hook. How much Dean needed for Sam's mouth to be wrapped around his painfully throbbing dick now that _Sam_ had put that image in Dean's mind. Still a hero ... always trying to play the hero, even against something as powerful as lust. _Sam_ dropped down and sucked Dean’s lower lip, playing with it with his tongue, and then pulling off. “I want to try.” Shy smile in place, HE started moving down Dean’s body, sucking hard on one flat male nipple and raking his sides with his fingers.

In a million years, Dean never would have expected Sam’s response. He hadn’t expected his brother to kiss him breathless, sucking on his lips in a way that made Dean whimper pathetically against the younger boy’s mouth. He certainly hadn’t been expecting Sam to reply that he wanted to try, making Dean’s dick throb and leak even more against the younger boy’s shorts. Fuck, he could feel how soaked Sam already was…

Then Sam was kissing his way down his chest and Dean’s hands shook as they came to rest on his brother’s shoulders. He ran his hands through the younger boy’s hair, down his neck and over his shoulders and back in an almost petting, soothing, motion though Sam hardly needed any calming. He wasn’t the one who was shaking and feeling like he was going to come apart at the seams.

It was tight on the couch, but HE made it work, sitting on his knees between Dean’s legs. HE started to fondle Dean’s cock, measuring its length, feeling its weight and girth. “I dreamed that you wanted to fuck my mouth, Dean. I dreamed we were watching TV. and I had my head in your lap and every time I moved... you wanted me to... did that ever happen?” Letting the question hang between them, Sam licked Dean’s tip, curling his tongue around the bead of precome, tasting it... the smiling, and taking Dean’s blunt crown in his mouth.

Oh god, he was going to go into cardiac arrest any second, Dean was certain of it. “Sammy… oh God…” Dean panted feeling his brother’s fingers wrap around him, playing with his dick, stroking him slowly like he was trying to memorize the feel of him. Then Sam’s whispered question made him close his eyes and moan in shame, because it was true. It was probably the first time he realized just how sick and fucked up he was. Back when Dean still allowed his little brother to “cuddle” with him, before he started pushing Sam away and calling him a girl for trying to get close to him. 

Dad had been away, it had been summer so they didn’t have to worry about school. They were staying up late watching TV, eating popcorn and candy, and he’d even let Sam take a few drinks off his beers. That was probably the reason Sam ended up dozing off in his lap halfway through the movie. Sam hadn’t been resting still though, and every time he’d moved Dean’s dick had gotten just a little bit harder. He was at full mast before his upstairs brain even caught up with what was happening, how he was reacting, and… 

“Yes…” Dean couldn’t help but admit, his voice small and trembling a little and his eyes begging for forgiveness now. Even as Sam’s tongue tasted him, making Dean gasp in surprise and pleasure. A deep, almost pained moan was pulled out of him when his brother wrapped his lips around the head of his dick and sucked. Dean's fingers tangled in the younger boy’s hair, pulling Sam closer as he begged for more before he could stop himself. Not that he wanted to stop. He couldn’t. 

The mixture of guilt and acute need emanating in waves from Dean was exhilarating. Wanting... desiring more, HE pushed his mouth down, taking more of Dean, but not all of him. The tentative touches, the trembling fingers in his hair and on his shoulder, the strangled moans, so sweet... so perfect for feeding on. _Sam_ played with Dean's cock a little longer, feeling the changes in Dean as the elder Winchester grew more desperate and just a little bolder with his pleas and with the pressure he applied on _Sam_ , dragging him closer. HE knew Dean was thinking about that one night when Sam had driven him crazy in his innocent ways, knew Dean had been so hard he'd had to jack off not once, but three times... each time coming to the mental vision of Sam moving his mouth over his cock, after teasing him while they watched the movie. Only when visions of past lust and his current lust brought Dean close to tears did _Sam_ relent and open his mouth wider.

 _Sam_ stopped sucking as HE adjusted to Dean's thick length bottoming out at his throat. A few heartbeats and groans later, HE started to move his mouth up and down Dean's shaft, sucking, licking, moving faster. His hand was closed around Dean's base, his wrist moving in half circles while his thumb casually... almost accidentally put pressure on Dean's balls. HE started to make some sounds of his own, breathing harder, "mmm'ing" around Dean's dick, his body readjusting so he was moving his hips and rubbing his own cock slightly against Dean's leg. _Come... come hard big brother... come hard... like that night you jacked off so many times._

Dean was lost. Completely and totally lost. He couldn’t think beyond the pleasure burning through his veins like liquid fire. Incinerating all his good intentions, all his doubts, and leaving only pure need. Sam’s slick wet tongue stroking his shaft, Sam’s hot mouth tight around his throbbing length, taking him in, it was so dirty and so perfect. Sam’s obvious inexperience only made him harder, hotter, knowing he was the first. He couldn’t have looked away from the sight of his little brother’s innocent mouth going down on his cock unless his eyes were burned out of their sockets. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out, his hips bucking up as he cried out loudly when his little brother took him all the way in again.

“Sam! Oh God… Sammy… yes, please… oh fuck…” Dean moaned helplessly, guiding Sam up and down his dick, his fingers still clenched tightly in his brother’s hair. He ran his other hand along the back of Sam's neck and shoulders as he thrust between those perfect sweet lips, moaning even louder at Sam’s touches around the base of his cock, the soft strokes to his balls. Sam’s soft moans around him drove his need higher, if it was possible. Oh god he was so fucked, he was so damned fucked… 

“Sammy!” He shouted, the feeling of his brother’s hard cock rubbing against his bare leg the final push that sent him completely over the edge. His entire body tensed as though he’d been hit by an electric shock as he came so hard he saw stars. His hips bucked with the pulse of his cock as his hot seed spilled from his dick into his brother’s mouth. Dean knew he was going to hell for this for sure but he didn’t give a damn.

 _Sam's_ hands roamed over Dean's bare belly as HE sucked him dry, swallowing everything he gave him and knowing Dean was watching his every movement, fascinated. HE absorbed wave after wave of intense emotions and pleasure, skittering to the edge just like Dean. His human form ached and throbbed, his need as real as Dean's had been. 

Dean mewled, his mind and body on complete overload with pleasure. He simply couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching Sam, his baby brother, licking up his release, savoring it like it was the most delicious treat in the world… He could get hard and come again just from that knowledge alone. Oh God, he was such a fucking pervert, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now. Not after feeling this. What he’d dreamed of and denied wanting for so long…

HE crawled up Dean's body, legs slightly spread, his head jerking back as HE positioned his cock over Dean's hip bone and groaned. Needing this, needing it for real, HE started to hump Dean's hip, hard and fast, eyes screwed tightly closed as he marched single-mindedly towards release. "Dean... oh God... feels so good... burn... oh God, Dean, help me... help..." HE pleaded, fucking harder, moving erratically, like HE didn't know exactly what HE needed, like he was desperate, needy and dying for his brother's touch. Sounds started breaking from him. HE didn't hide them... felt them already start to affect Dean. HE knew this scene would play over and over in Dean's mind... would have the young man in knots for days to come, would have him beating off just for his peace of mind... to prevent himself from going crazy due to the needs of his body. 

With Sam rubbing his dick against him, moaning and crying out his name, and pleading with him, Dean felt hot all over. Like he was on the brink of coming again just from watching Sam, just feeling him. His hands went to the younger boy’s slender hips, guiding Sam. His moans echoed Sam’s. So beautiful. So hot. So perfect. Sam. His brother, wanting him, needing him, just as much as Dean needed Sam. It was wrong and impossible and so damned perfect Dean felt close to tears. 

"Dean!" HE cried out, back arching, dick dragging one last time over his brother's hip, before HE collapsed on top of him. HE felt Dean's hand move over his back, holding him tight. Lifting his face, HE kissed Dean, and then moved his mouth over Dean's ear. "I love you. If you love me, really love me, you won't let me go. You won't let me leave... won't make me cry again."

HE hoped each of his words would give Dean fresh wounds, new guilt, new fears, new reasons to vibrate with emotions. "I'm at the bus stop. I'm afraid of being alone, or never seeing you. But you told me to leave... I'm doing what you asked me, what you wanted. Not much time left. Bus comes in fifteen... take me back with you." HE slid off Dean, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Bring me back, Dean. The days will be his and yours, and the nights... yours and mine." HE gave a sexy but tremulous smile.”In your dreams... I'll be there, if you save him from himself." 

Hearing Sam scream his name out, Dean felt as though all the air had been knocked out of him. He was still gasping for breath and wrapping his arms tightly around his trembling brother, petting him slowly, lovingly, giving him the comfort he had denied the younger boy for so long for fear of what Sam would see inside of him, when Sam’s words made the air freeze in his lungs.

Of course he loved Sam, he’d never stopped loving his brother, never, he’d thought Sam hated him… but Sam had come back… No… Sam was gone… but his brother was here in his arms now… wasn’t he? Sam… at the bus stop… alone… No, this wasn’t real. It wasn’t… it was just a fucked up fantasy, just a dream… of course it was, how could he have believed anything different? But he had, for those few moments, and now heartbroken didn’t even begin to cover what Dean was feeling inside. It felt like his insides were being shredded. Even worse as he looked up into his brother’s tear filled eyes.

“Don’t go, please…” Dean begged, but the words were barely out of his mouth, between one blink and the next Sam was gone. He’d never been here. He’d been dreaming but… it felt so real… the pills, the liquor, the concussion, Dean didn’t know which had caused it but it had felt so fucking real. Sam’s lips around his cock, Sam’s warm flesh beneath his hands, hell, even his lips still felt bruised from the younger boy’s kisses. 

Dean slowly pushed himself up from the couch, almost falling off of it when his head started spinning, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Fuck… he felt like he’d been hit over the head by a two by four. But Sam’s words… from the dream echoed in his head and he forced himself onto his feet even though he had to catch the back of the sofa, and then the wall, to keep from falling as he stumbled. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he have let Sam go? Even if Sam hated him… he couldn’t let Sam go. He wouldn’t. He’d make it better. He’d make it right. Somehow he’d make it right for Sam or he’d die trying. 

Dean managed to yank on some jeans and a t-shirt without killing himself, not even bothering with shoes he ignored how fucking unsteady he felt and ran out of the house and down the road as fast as he could. The bus stop. It wasn’t too far. What if Sam wasn’t there? It was only a fucking dream… He had to be there, please God, let him be there. 

He could barely see it was so fucking dark, and he barely realized it was raining until he’d already been soaked through to the skin. But when he finally got close enough to the bus stop to see the hunched figure curled up on the bench his heart both leapt with joy and felt like it was being ripped in two with sorrow. 

“Sammy!” 

Dean didn’t have any words prepared, he had no idea what to say, he didn’t even know if Sam would listen so he didn’t bother with words. Between one second and the next he’d pulled Sam up into his arms, holding the younger boy as tightly to him as he possibly could. It took him a few moments to realize he actually was speaking. A ramble of words that he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry Sam. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. I love you, I love you so fucking much…” 

Even in the downpour, Sam had fallen into an exhausted sleep. His dreams had been disjointed and confused. One minute his brother was yelling at him to get the hell away, the next they were having dinner and Dean was passing him his favorite foods, giving his share over. Then it was screaming and shouting again... his dad... his Dean... and he didn’t know where to run, where to hide. Once he’d have hidden behind Dean, now he was running from him. It was wrong, all wrong. When... when had his brother let go of him, when had he cut him loose? When did he stop needing him? When did he start resenting him? He was crying again, this time in his sleep, until he felt strong arms pull him up and envelope him in a tight embrace. Another dream... it had to be, because Dean never hugged him anymore... he barely touched him. Only girls hug... that’s what he said.

Yet it smelled so much like Dean. Felt so much like him. It was too real. Sam opened his eyes just as Dean said all the things that Dean would _never_ , not in a hundred years tell him. His throat welled up, aching, as he pulled slightly back, wondering for an instance if this was some shape-shifter having its fun.

No, it was Dean. It was his brother. Sam hugged him back, tight, not caring that tears were coursing down his cheeks right along with the rain. “I don’t want to leave you Dean. But I don’t want to hold you back, either.” He swallowed, echoed the words that seemed to be coming unusually easily from Dean. “I love you too. You know that.” He put his face down on his brother’s shoulder, rocking slightly, and mumbling a home truth near his ear... thought he was afraid to look into Dean’s eyes. “Sometimes... sometimes you look at me like I make your skin crawl, and that scares me.” That was it, that was the bottom line. He didn’t care that Dean had popped him. They fought often enough. And maybe it had been out of line, and a first... but Sam could deal with it. It was the silent looks of revulsion, and the admission that he felt like Sam was a weight on his shoulders, that’s what got to Sam, and nothing else.

Dean honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the whole fucked up situation. Hearing Sam admit that he didn’t want to leave him filled him with joy while at the same time his brother admitting he didn’t want to “hold him back” made him want to cry. Where the fuck had Sam ever got the idea that he was “holding him back?” Hearing Sam say he loved him had his eyes burning with tears that were thankfully immediately washed away by the rain pouring around them, because no he hadn’t known that. Not after their last exchange, he hadn’t. It was why he’d let Sam go in the first place…

If possible his heart shattered into even smaller pieces, falling somewhere down to the center of the earth when Sam talked about… the way he looked at Sam. How the hell could Sam have picked up on the way Dean tried not to look at Sam and had never noticed how Dean sometimes couldn’t look away from him? 

For a split terrifying second he almost told Sam the truth about why he didn’t look at him anymore, why he tried not to touch him anymore, not even for an innocent hug. But then Dean remembered what had… happened… back at the house had only been a dream. Just another one of his fucked up fantasies. His little brother would probably be horrified to find out just half the things that Dean wanted to do to him, not to mention disgusted, and then his brother would hate him for real. 

“Sammy, it’s not you. I swear, I never meant for you to think that. You don’t hold me back. I’m here because I want to be. I want to be with you and dad. I don’t want anything else, I never have. I thought…” Dean gave a bitter laugh. “I thought you hated me… you hate everything else about our life and when you didn’t deny it…” He took a shuddering breath and ran his fingers gently through his little brother’s soft wet hair, practically cradling the younger boy against him. “Come home with me. I’ll make it better, I swear. Somehow I’ll make it better.”

The words were reassuring and familiar. They matched Sam’s knowledge, his vision of his older brother, before a chasm had opened between them maybe a year and half ago and slowly widened. Once, he hadn't doubted. If anything, he'd thought Dean loved him too much. It had worried him... the thought of how it might affect Dean once he told him about his college plans.

He hugged Dean tighter, like he used to whenever he needed comfort. Dean thought he hated him? Hated? Since when? Why? Okay, they'd fought... and he wasn't one to hold back his words, but sometimes that was all he had to fight with. Sometimes he hurt so bad inside, felt so oppressed by their life, he had to lash out. Had he lashed out too much at Dean? Blamed him for things his brother couldn't change?

His shoulder shook as he started to sob. "I don't hate you Dean, I could never hate you, no matter what. There is nothing you could do to make me hate you." He nodded, still burying his face in Dean's neck, rubbing his cheek against the rough wet material of his jacket. "I just... I get angry, and I can't help it. It's not your fault. You make things better, not worse." That was the truth too, plain and simple. 

He started to relax as Dean ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll make it better too, Dean. I'll be better, help you," he promised, reluctantly pulling away from his brother. He'd missed this... missed touching Dean. He remembered how shocked he'd been... how much it felt like a bucket of ice water being thrown in his face when Dean had started to push him away and tell him not to be a girl every time he tried to hug. Yeah Sam was more in touch with his feelings, and he liked to touch, but the way Dean had started to shove him away had felt strange. Maybe Sam had imagined it. Or maybe Dean was trying to man him up in his own way. All he knew was that it hurt.

This is what Dean needed, more than anything else in the world. Sam needing him, trusting him, loving him, as a brother. He couldn’t believe he’d almost lost it. Almost lost Sam. All because of a stupid argument. All because he’d gotten so caught up in trying to deny and hide his sick desires, wanting what he could never have, he’d forgotten what he did have. He’d pushed Sam away to the point that his brother doubted his love and he’d almost run away forever…

Never again. Yes, Dean knew it would be hard, it had been hard since he realized his feelings for his brother and it certainly wouldn’t be any easier having Sam close and wanting him in ways he shouldn’t, but Dean swore he’d never let it drive a wedge between them again. He’d never let Sam doubt how much the younger boy meant to him even as he hid from him the full extent of his love for his brother because despite the younger boy’s reassurances, Dean knew the truth. What he wanted from Sam, how he needed him, that was so far from the 'normal' that Sam craved that it would drive Sam hate him if Sam caught wind of it.

Dean’s mind flashed to the vivid dream he’d had of Sam sucking on his cock and he felt a little ill at the arousal he felt. It was probably a good thing then that Sam started to pull out of his arms. He pushed himself up from the bench after his brother, swaying a little and feeling like shit.

Sam's eyes widened as Dean appeared to be shaky and unstable. Christ, he'd forgotten how unwell and weak his brother was since the accident. Immediately putting his shoulder under his brother's arm, he helped him walk. "You know you shouldn't even be out here in the rain."

He stole a glance at his brother, and smiled. "Guess this is what you get for having a pain in the ass younger brother. You sure you want this?" As they half stumbled and headed for home, he teased. "You could trade me in for a nice sister... you know, she might not argue as much. Or how about a pet? Just don't call it Sammy, animals hate that as much as kids over thirteen." 

In spite of everything, Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly at his brother’s words. “Oh, I don’t know. We could always put pigtails in your hair and I could start calling you Samantha.” Dean teased and he ran his fingers once more through his brother’s hair making it stick up at odd angles, before he tightened his arm around the younger boy, tucking him even closer against his side. He answered his brother’s first question a little more seriously. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Sam knew Dean had no idea how good it felt to have Dean touch him again. It felt so different, so much better than all the shoves and the dirty looks that Sam even allowed Dean to do stupid things like mess with his hair and call him a girl. He’d let Dean get away with anything, because right now, with his big brother’s arm tight around him, it finally felt like home again. “Alright then,” he smiled, his even white teeth peeking out as he looked down and started to walk faster.

They were completely drenched by the time they got back home, but at least the rain was warm. Sam’s sneakers and his own bare feet tracked in mud and they both dripped puddles all over the kitchen floor. Dean was in no mood to mop it up, or to clean up the mess he'd left in the living room. He'd have to do it later, but for now he honestly didn’t care about it because even as crappy as he felt physically, he was happier than he’d been in a long time. Just because he'd made Sam smile…

Sam immediately started to peel Dean’s sopping jacket off. “You should probably get to bed... unless you wanna watch some TV.?” He knew it was late and that Dean looked like he was about to collapse. He also knew the right thing would be for Dean to sleep, but it was hard to let him go when things were just getting right between them. He’d dropped Dean’s jacket on the kitchen floor and now pulled his own jacket and tee shirt off, then reached for Dean’s tee shirt. “Get your jeans off,” he said, peeling the sticky wet material up Dean’s body. 

Dean was a little taken aback and a flutter of nervousness started low in his belly in spite of himself. Sam's actions were completely innocent and practical. It was better to undress in the kitchen than to track water and mud all over the house. However Dean couldn’t deny the warm flush that washed over him when the younger boy stripped off his own shirt and for a moment all Dean could do was stare at his brother’s bare damp skin. He stood there frozen as Sam reached to help him strip and told him to take off his pants…

Dean shook himself, mentally going over in his brain every disgusting zombie-like smelly creature they’d ever hunted to distract himself from his little brother’s body. His eyes darting down but he didn’t shove Sam away when the younger boy helped him get his shirt off over his head. However there was no way in hell he was going to let his brother help him get his pants off. It was all he could do not to sprout wood already. 

“TV would be great, dude, but I gotta clean up and go to bed. Gotta go to work tomorrow,” Dean said with genuine regret. As much as being near Sam tied him up in knots, after everything he really didn’t want to let Sam out of his sight even for things as “necessary” as sleep. 

“Okay,” Sam said softly, letting Dean pull away. He unzipped and bent over to get his jeans off, cursing as the thick material stuck to his legs and had to be worked off. He would have offered to help Dean take his off, but his brother started to head to the living room. "Dean, I'll clean up, just go... or you won't be able to get up," he said, stepping out of his clothes. He looked up and met Dean's gaze and pointedly looked down the hall toward their dad's room. A split second later, his brother was rushing away. “See you in the morning... call me if you need something,” Sam told him.

*

The instant Dean Winchester staggered into the room, HE came to Dean in Sam’s form. This time, he plastered himself to Dean’s bare back, arms around his waist and undoing his jeans, his cock ... a hard knot... pressing against Dean’s ass as he walked him toward the bed. “I missed you. Want to help you. Want to let you look at me as much as you want,” HE said, cupping Dean over his partially opened pants. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be able to touch me, to look at me, without having to hide it. Without feeling ashamed? You’d like to tell me you like it when I do this...” HE was breathing hard, rubbing against Dean’s ass, “... when I show you how hard you make me.”

HE pushed and they were the few steps to the bed. Squeezing Dean's cock over his pants, HE started to whimper. “Dean, I don’t know what to do... make me feel good,” HE pleaded, trying to ride against him as he moved his hand inside Dean’s shorts and curled his fingers around his shaft. “So hard... it hurt... please Dean... need... need something... something...” 

Dean felt the hard press of an erection against his ass as he was pushed towards the bed. His own cock immediately jumped to attention even as his brain began waving red flags. This wasn’t fucking normal, even for him. He wasn’t asleep this time, God damn it, this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t Sam plastered against his back, it wasn’t his little brother’s voice whispering hot dirty things into his ear, promising everything Dean had ever wanted. Dean was going completely insane, either he was hallucinating from some kind of brain injury, or it was… something else…

But even as he realized this it was like his brain was filling with a fog. He couldn’t think beyond the lust wrapping around him like a hot, wet, heavy blanket. He grew impossibly hard in the hand that stroked him, groaning with pleasure when Sam squeezed his dick. Yes, he wanted it. Wanted everything Sam offered and more. He needed it…

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled his hand away even though he whimpered in almost pain from the loss, and turned around in the younger boy’s arms. Grabbing his brother he yanked Sam up hard against him, his mouth coming down on Sam’s almost bruising. Not caring about the consequences. 

The momentary indecision that warred within Dean was delicious, absolutely delicious and almost had _Sam_ coming. HE didn’t pull away from the brutal kiss, instead winding his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing himself even closer. “Mmm,” he kissed back, tangling his tongue with his brother’s, letting him suck on his tongue... like it was his dick. HE knew those thoughts and even more obscene ones were tumbling through Dean’s mind, and it didn’t take much to encourage them.

HE felt Dean’s hand slide down his bare back and slip under his shorts, cupping his ass. Mewling against Dean’s lips, HE arched into him. HE started to thrust against Dean, half climbing him until Dean lifted him slightly and his cock was aligned over Dean’s. HE started to move mindlessly against Dean, bowing back to get maximum friction. 

Pleading sounds broke from the back of his throat. As HE writhed and begged for more, HE could feel Dean’s lust rising... “Touch me, touch me Dean. I need you,” HE moaned, kissing him again, this time his tongue slipping into Dean’s hot, wet mouth, engaging him, trapping him in a web of lust and desire so strong he was sure the world could come to an end right now, but his lover would not notice. “Need something... need more, please Dean... take your clothes off... unghhh...”

Dean cupped the back of his brother’s head with one hand, his fingers winding themselves tightly in the younger boy’s hair, holding him place as he ravished Sam’s mouth with abandonment. Not that Sam was trying to pull away or stop him. In fact, the younger boy kissed him back with just as much passion and Dean was instantly so hard he hurt. He groaned as he sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth and possessively squeezed the firm globes of his ass cheeks under his shorts, bucking against the younger boy when Sam rubbed against him. The friction between their cocks felt damned good even through the layers of cloth they still wore. 

Dean loved the sounds of pleasure and need spilling from his brother’s throat. They drove him on, needing more, trailing his lips and tongue down the side of the younger boy’s neck, biting and sucking as Sam mewled in his arms. Dean didn’t hesitate to give his brother exactly what he wanted. He carried Sam the final few steps to the bed. Not putting Sam down, Dean simply climbed onto the bed with him, laying his brother back and following him down, thrusting and rubbing his cock between Sam’s legs as he brought his mouth down hard onto his brother’s again.

“God... Dean... good... don’t stop,” _Sam_ begged, finally getting the friction he wanted with Dean on top of him. So good, it was so damned good, the web of lust binding them together as they mindlessly writhed. HE parted his lips for his brother. HE could do this forever... kiss and rub against him, slowly drive Dean crazy out of his mind until Dean gave everything over... his body, his soul, his essence, his life... all to satisfy the burning need that HE inflamed in the form of Dean's younger brother. Illicit love... there was nothing more tortured and more delicious.

Dean kissed Sam until the need for air forced him to pull back and he grasped Sam’s underwear and practically ripped it down his legs impatiently. Then went to work getting his own wet jeans and shorts off as quickly as he could. 

“No... don’t stop...” _Sam_ whined when Dean broke the kiss. HE gasped as his shorts were pulled down, then watched through heavy lidded eyes as Dean tore off his own jeans. Half sitting, bracing himself on one elbow, _Sam_ closed his legs and covered his shaft with his hand, stroking it ever so slightly, his eyes wide... focused on his brother’s thick cock. “So big,” he said breathlessly, licking his lips, and swallowing. 

His brother’s sudden display of shyness made Dean go still. Lust still burned through his veins like fire, especially at the way Sam was looking at his cock with a mixture of nervousness and wonder. He remembered too clearly the feel of his brother’s lips wrapped around his aching flesh… Dean wanted nothing more than to tear Sam’s hand away, to push open his legs to look, touch, kiss, and lick every intimate part of his brother’s body. To claim every inch of that fresh virginal body as his own, but he refused to do anything that might hurt or scare the younger boy. If Sam told him to stop, he would, without hesitation, no matter how it might pain him.

For a moment, all Dean could do was watch the slow movements of those long fingers covering his brother’s dick, lightly caressing its hard length. His mouth practically watered with the thought of replacing those fingers with his tongue, before he forced his eyes back up to meet Sam’s. 

He crawled up the length of the bed and lay down beside his brother, propped up on his elbow on his side, not touching Sam except for the hand on the younger boy’s thigh that he slowly slid up from his knee to his brother’s waist. His thumb caressing over his hip bone before moving back down, shifting to Sam’s inner thigh before moving back up slowly. His fingers curling up just behind the younger boy’s balls before moving back down. 

“You’re so beautiful, let me look at you, Sammy, please…” Dean whispered, licking his lips. Gently coaxing his brother’s legs apart again. “Do you want me to touch you? Kiss you? Lick you? Tell me what you want…”

 _Sam_ squirmed, letting Dean see how his caresses were affecting him. His breaths were shallow and audible. His gaze, locked on Dean’s eyes as HE inched his thighs apart for his brother. “I’m not beautiful,” HE answered, his color rising. His hand slowly slipped off his shaft, but now HE acted like HE didn’t know where to place it and looked a bit unsure. HE wet his lips, then stretched his hand out to touch Dean’s cock, eyes raising up to see if HE had permission. Stroking it gently, he rolled closer to his brother and brought his open mouth down over Dean's. 

Dean bit back a groan as he watched how his little brother shifted and squirmed from his lightest touch. He longed to just grab the boy and pull that young beautiful body tight against him so he could feel Sam moving and rubbing against every inch of him but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Sam so he forced himself to go slow. Even though he couldn’t stop himself from moaning and the hungry look that entered his eyes when Sam did as he asked, sliding his legs apart obediently and removing his hand from his cock. “Of course you are, I wouldn’t lie about that.” The Dean replied, his whole body hyper aware of the heat being generated from Sam, his fingers practically burning where they touched forbidden flesh. Sliding up the younger boy’s thigh once more and not stopping there this time. Cupping his little brother’s heavy sack and giving it a gentle squeeze, ghosting his fingers up the length of the younger boy’s cock from root to tip. 

When Sam moved closer, kissing him again, Dean responded immediately. Wrapping his arm around the younger boy’s back and tugging him closer, sweeping his palm up from Sam’s waist to his shoulders, and then down again to his ass. Petting and squeezing his brother’s soft downy cheeks as Sam’s tongue played in his mouth and his fingers played with his cock. So fucking sweet…

 _Sam's_ hand and tongue didn’t move quite in unison because HE was too inexperienced to be able to concentrate on both. HE tangled his tongue with Dean’s, moaning softly, then pulling back. “Touch me Dean. With your mouth,” HE begged, putting the dirty thought into Dean's mind, knowing HE would get mileage out of it, that it would intensify Dean's lust and make it so much more delicious as HE milked Dean of life. 

The request made Dean groan and he nodded as the younger boy kissed him again. Dean took control of the kiss this time, sweeping his tongue into the warm cavern of Sam’s mouth as he clutched Sam closer and rolled them both over so that he was on top. Sliding a leg between his little brother’s thighs he rubbed his hard erection against Sam’s hip and kissed him until he had to come up for air. Then he started to rain soft tender kisses all over the younger boy’s face, his warm breaths panting over Sam’s skin as he tasted his way down his brother’s jaw to his neck. 

“Taste so good…” Dean whispered as he nuzzled Sam's throat, he couldn’t get over how soft and smooth his brother’s skin still was, while he knew his own cheeks and chin had a day’s worth of stubble. So damned young… but even his guilt wasn’t enough to stop him anymore as he sucked and bit and licked at the little hollow at the base of his brother’s throat. Sliding down Sam’s body, sweeping his hands down the younger boy’s chest and sides, his mouth following the path of his hands. His tongue flicked out to swirl around one of the Sam’s peaked nipples, sucking and biting lightly on it while his fingers toyed and pinched the other. Pressing himself close to his brother, he savored every squirm and mewl of pleasure he drew out of Sam. 

_Desire. Lust. Want. Guilt._ Emotions... needs ran so deep... had been denied so long, once they broke free, there was no stopping them. They were a force of nature, crashing around them like powerful waves, building up and seeking, searching for outlets, overrunning the banks. _Sam’s_ pleasure intensified as HE drank Dean's emotions. When Dean's knee moved between his legs, _Sam_ automatically clenched his thighs around it and started to move, rubbing himself against it as surely as his brother was fucking into his hip. His breaths came faster, hotter. “Dean... oh my God Dean...” HE thrashed from side to side as Dean’s mouth moved over him, feathering kisses, leaving burning hot trails over his skin, making him so sensitive that every touch sent fire through his veins.

Small sounds tore from his throat as Dean’s mouth did things to him, moving down his body. The fiery sensation that ran through him at the first touch of Dean’s tongue against his nipple had _Sam_ almost jackknife up. If it weren’t for the weight of his brother, he would have. HE moved his own hand to his other nipple, touching himself... 'discovering' his body. Dean was touching him, licking and kissing him with such excruciating slowness that _Sam_ started to buck. “More... Dean please, faster... more,” HE pleaded.

Dean moaned as his brother’s fingers took over where his hand been playing with his nipple. Using his now free hand, he slid his palm down to Sam’s stomach. Pressing down, holding the younger boy in place while his tongue continued to tickle the tight pink nub beneath it. Sam’s desperate pleas urged him on, had him giving more, giving everything his brother asked for. Sucking harder, taking the sensitive peak between his teeth and pulling gently. His brother’s hard cock was leaving damp scorching trails over his thigh and Dean knew he wasn’t going to stop until he tasted the younger boy everywhere. Until he felt his brother’s pulse beating strongly against his tongue, his lips wrapped around the base of the younger boy’s cock, while Sam shot his load down the back of his throat. 

Giving Sam’s nipples one last kiss, Dean continued down his brother’s body. Kissing and sucking and nipping at the sweat damp skin as he went. His tongue dipped into the younger boy’s belly button while his fingers slid through the soft trail of hair leading from Sam’s navel to his groin. Finally he pulled back, just enough so he could watch as his fingers curled around his brother’s hot length. He gave the surprisingly long thick cock a slow stroke from base to tip, and groaned when he saw a perfect pearly bead of precome form at the slit. 

Dean’s eyes flicked up to his brother’s, his gaze locking with the younger boy’s, as he dipped his head to lap away that drop with his tongue. The taste of his brother’s pleasure exploding over his tongue was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and Dean groaned again as he swirled his tongue all around the swollen red head. He spent several long minutes playing with the sensitive underside, dipping into the slit over and over while his fingers continued to slide up and down the length of his brother’s shaft. His other hand gripped the younger boy’s hip to keep Sam from squirming or bucking up into his mouth until he was ready.

Finally Dean parted his lips and swallowed down his brother’s cock completely in one smooth motion. Groaning around the head of the younger boy’s dick when he felt it nudge at the back of his throat. Dean let go of his brother’s hip, letting the younger boy fuck up into his mouth as he bobbed his head. Sucking hard enough for his cheeks to hollow as he took Sam completely into his mouth over and over, never looking away from Sam’s eyes as he worked to give his brother the best blow job he would ever have in his whole life. 

Pleasure came at _Sam_ from a thousand angles. Dean’s mouth, his tongue, leaving hot wet trails over his body, teasing mercilessly, then making it better. Dean’s hands, sometimes gentle, sometimes demanding, always groping, always touching, like he was making sure _Sam_ was still there, with him, like he couldn’t bear any separation. _Sam_ writhed and licked his lips. HE sensed that need now eclipsed Dean’s guilt, but it was delicious just the same. Dean might be older, but he was still a teenager, still at the mercy of his hormones... and his hormones had been driving him up the wall for a long time when it came to his younger brother. Now HE offered Dean his brother on a silver platter and the emotions storming inside Dean were wreaking havoc with the boy, whether he knew it or not.

Bracing on his elbows and with his gaze locked to Dean’s, HE knew HE had Dean's rapt attention, HE felt Dean's response to each of _Sam's_ reactions and intentionally wound the older boy tighter. _Sam_ threw his head back, eyes on Dean, a groan tearing from the back of his throat. His fists curled around the bed sheets, holding on like they were his anchors, and then he started to thrust into Dean's mouth. Little sounds broke from his throat as HE practically fucked the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, and Dean let him... no longer holding him down or restricting him in any way, giving him whatever he needed or wanted. He thrashed, biting his lips... trying desperately but unsuccessfully to hold back his cries.

Sam’s whimpers and moans of pleasure burned Dean's ears. The feel of Sam’s hot dripping cock against his tongue scorched his mouth, his tongue, his throat. Hellfire… The road to hell definitely wasn’t paved with good intentions. It was paved with getting off on the feeling of your baby brother writhing and moaning and thrusting his cock down your throat. Dean didn’t care one damned bit. He watched and savored every moan that spilled from his brother’s lips. Every time Sam lifted his hips, shoving himself deeper into his mouth, into his throat Dean moaned around him. The sweat glistening on his brother’s flesh, the lust in Sam’s eyes, he savored it all. The most forbidden fruit, and he savored every bit of it greedily.

“Dean move.” HE took a couple breaths, legs shifting. “Dean, I’m gonna.... Dean....” _Sam_ tried to warn his brother as his body stiffened like a board and HE started to come... hard.

As Sam’s whimpers changed in pitch and he began to thrash harder, as he felt his little brother’s balls tighten, Dean didn’t know if he could have stopped if their father had suddenly appeared at the door threatening to kill him for molesting his younger brother. When Sam began to “warn” him of what Dean already knew was imminent, Dean only sucked harder, taking the younger boy as deeply as he could into his throat without choking around him.

The first shot of the younger boy’s semen down his throat made Dean feel light headed and he barely remembered to swallow. He didn't want to lose a single drop but he hadn’t anticipated Sam to come so much or so hard and was forced to pull off just to take a breath. This caused his brother to shoot over his face and lips as well as in his mouth. Rather than feeling gross or disgusted though, Dean merely moaned, licking his lips and the head of his brother’s cock as though he were savoring the most delicious treat in the world. 

An urgent and desperate cry broke out of _Sam_ as he came, half sitting up, hands digging into the mattress, fingers clenched around mounds of now wrinkled sheets. His hair was plastered to his forehead, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body. His eyes widened as his cock slipped out of Dean's mouth and another rope of cum shot out of him. "Dean!" Fear and embarrassment etched his features as HE drew his knees half way back and sat up. Reaching out, HE started to wipe Dean's face, his hands shaking, and his voice hesitant and fearful. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean… I tried to tell…"

Tears welled up in _Sam's_ eyes. HE was making more of a mess than helping. "Don't be mad… I…" Then the hot tears started falling, streaming down his cheeks and rolling onto his chest. "So sorry…" 

The sudden change in Sam’s demeanor, going from pleasure and need to shame and even fear stunned Dean so much he could only stare dumbfounded at Sam from his position between the younger boy’s legs. He blinked up at his brother stupidly, even as the tears welling up in Sam’s eyes made his heart twist painfully in his chest while the younger boy frantically wiped at his face. Don’t be mad? Why would he be…

It finally clicked and Dean didn’t know whether to laugh at his brother’s mortification, his pain, his fear, or feel guilty at having been the cause. Dean gently grasped the hand that was doing little but smearing come across his face and lips as he pushed himself up, shaking his head at the same time. “No, Sammy. No I’m not mad. How could I be mad?” Dean tried to reassure, his heart twisting all the more painfully at the tears now running down his brother’s face. Climbing up the length of his brother’s body he gathered the younger boy close to his chest and held him tightly. 

Running his fingers soothingly down his brother’s hair and back, Dean tried again. “Sam, I’m NOT mad. It was amazing. I liked it. Every second. I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Wanted to taste you for so long…” God, he sounded like such a fucking pervert. But if it comforted the younger boy Dean would admit to all of his perverse and hell worthy thoughts and longings he’d ever had for Sam. Dean took Sam’s hand in his own again and brought the younger boy’s come slick fingers back to his lips. Taking his brother’s index finger into his mouth and sucking on it softly with a moan of pleasure.

 

 _Sam_ clung to Dean, accepting the comfort and forcing Dean to put to words his guilty desires… needs that had been building up for some time making him ripe pickings for the incubus. HE stopped sniffling, and wiggled his finger inside Dean’s mouth, stroking his tongue. “Me too Dean. Sleep on top of me,” HE whispered, pulling his brother down over him just as the bedroom door opened. "I like how you feel. So hard and..." HE dissipated into thin air.

*

“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam asked from the doorway, looking wide eyed at his brother who was hunched over kinda funny. “You were… I thought I heard a noise.”

One moment Dean's chest was bursting with happiness at Sam's request that he sleep on top of him, just like this, both of them smelling like sex, their skin slick with sweat, and there was nothing Dean wanted more right now… and the next, Sam was gone…

Except Sam was there, behind him, standing at the door and Dean’s heart practically stuttered to a halt at his brother’s soft concerned words. His real brother. His brother who would be horrified and disgusted if he knew just what Dean had… fantasized… hallucinated… he wasn’t even sure… about sucking Sam off…

Fuck, Dean swore he could still taste the younger boy’s seed in his mouth…

Dean quickly wiped at the sweat on his face, and he wasn’t sure where he found the will to actually turn and look up at Sam. He knew his eyes must have been wide with something akin to panic as the younger boy came over and reached out to touch his forehead and suddenly Dean felt like he was going to be sick.

Burning up… he felt like he was burning up, being incinerated by guilt and shame. And Sammy was completely oblivious, mistaking his flush of arousal for sickness. The darkness and the sheets that Dean gathered around his waist hid his painful erection. Thank God. Once Sam left at least he could take care of the shameful proof of his sick desires…

Sam pulled his hand away from Dean's sweaty forehead, sat down on the side of the bed and started to push Dean over onto his back. “You’re burning up. You gotta take more Tylenol and water. I’m… I’m gonna sleep here tonight, okay? Dean?” His voice rose an octave as a sense of slight panic worm its way inside him.  
Dean thought his heart was going to fail at Sam’s offer to sleep in here with him tonight. Probably to take care of him… There were so many fucking reasons why Sam shouldn’t that Dean couldn’t possibly count them all right now. But after everything that had happened tonight… the thought of pushing Sam away for any reason, even if it was for Sam’s own good… made him fear it would blow up in his face again like earlier.

Sam’s sudden, almost fearful change in tone jarred Dean enough to finally answer instead of simply staring at the younger boy like some kind of sicko. “Yeah… ok, Sam,” he managed to croak, wanting to kick himself. Couldn’t he have come up with something, anything, to let his brother down gently? To convince Sam that he was fine and didn’t need babysitting? Apparently not. Apparently his entire brain was suffering from lack of blood flow and it was making him even stupider than normal. “You’re right, I should probably take some more meds, I’m not feeling all that hot. Can you get me some?” At least that would give him time to put his fucking pants back on. 

The lost, confused look in Dean’s face, and his failure to immediately respond had started to freak Sam out. Then Dean agreed, and admitted he wasn’t doing well. Course that didn’t make Sam feel a lot better, but at least his brother wasn’t ‘out of it.’ He nodded, “I’ll get them. You…” He touched Dean’s forehead again and got up. “Get some more rest.” 

Sam scurried from the room, really not liking how Dean looked. In any normal family, they’d be heading to the hospital about now. But no, Winchesters had to take care of themselves unless they were on death’s bed. There was no way in hell he could convince Dean they needed a doctor. He just hoped like hell that by tomorrow his brother would be better cause, if he had to guess, he’d say Dean was looking worse.

As he got the Tylenol and poured water into a glass, it hit him. Dean had been doing better earlier, when he’d managed to get himself to the shower. Now… after having come out in the rain to look for Sam, he was worse. Guilt ate at him, making him feel sick over the trouble he caused his brother, again. Why was it when he didn’t have a hard knot of anger balled up in his stomach, it was a knot of guilt? Why couldn’t things be like they’d been a couple years ago, before he started to go through periods of extreme emotions? Sometimes he blamed dad, and even Dean, but … it wasn’t just them. It was him. He wished he knew how to let stuff go, how to get back to that happy place where he wasn’t making his brother miserable or putting him in danger… like this? He tried to get his emotions under control before he returned to the room.

*

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam finally left. Fuck. Even the gentle touch of Sam’s hand to his forehead practically burned him. Cursing himself, Dean let the sheets around his waist fall as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t have a lot of time until Sam came back.

He hadn’t expected the sudden wave of dizziness that smacked him in the face when he sat up. Now that the adrenaline fueled by lust had faded he felt completely… drained… He could barely keep himself upright and not simply fall out of bed onto his ass as he reached over the side of the bed for his slightly damp jeans.

Getting them on and pulled up, not to mention buttoned up, was an even greater challenge. Thankfully his erection had started to wilt by then. Shame and disgust at himself was good for that. It had worked for a long time in fact, until the strength of his desires had begun to outweigh his shame. What had happened tonight though… twice… far outweighed any of his previous fantasies he’d ever had about the younger boy. 

So real he knew he should probably be worried he’d suffered brain damage in that car accident… or worse… there had been something before… something before he simply couldn’t stop himself from touching and kissing the image of his brother. But Dean had more important things to worry about right now. Playing sick… well… not really playing… for his over concerned real brother who had absolutely no idea what a disgusting pervert he really was.

With a heavy sigh Dean laid down in the bed again and covered himself up just in time for Sam to come back with the pills and water. The younger man looking almost hesitant as he approached and Dean’s heart began to hammer a little in fear that maybe he’d given himself away. 

“You… you shouldn’t have had to go out in the rain, not like this. I’m sorry…. Sorry Dean, for all the trouble.” Sam said, creeping in, eyes on his brother. When he reached the bed, he sat next to Dean and passed over the meds and water, hanging his head. “Need anything else?” he whispered, knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to help his brother. 

“Don’t, Sammy. No more apologies, ok? Besides I’ve got way more to be sorry for today than you do...” Dean said softly. If Sam only knew… With a soft sigh he tossed back the pills and downed the whole glass because he knew Sam would probably nag at him if he didn’t. Handing back the empty glass to his brother, Dean offered him a reassuring smile. “Nah, I’m good. Feel better already.” Yeah, they both knew he was full of shit, but if it would ease that worried guilty look on the younger boy’s face that’s all that mattered. “Good night, Sammy.”

Sam didn't answer but setting the glass on the nightstand, he got in the bed. Laying on his side, for a long time… long after Dean closed his eyes, Sam watched him. He'd left a little light on in case he needed to move fast to get something for Dean, and now, in the light, he started to notice even more how tired and sick his brother looked. His skin was pale and yellowish, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Weird how his injuries seemed to be stable but the rest of him seemed to be getting worse.

Rain. You made him go out in the rain when he could barely walk. He went barefooted. No matter what Dean said, he couldn't help feeling bad about being responsible for Dean's state. Reaching out, he put his palm close to Dean's nose… felt his breaths, and dropped his hand between them. Dean was too still, and yeah… maybe Sam's imagination was getting the best of him.

As he closed his own eyes eventually, he hoped he wouldn't thrash around too much and disturb Dean. They hadn't slept in the same bed for a long time, but the last times they had, he remembered Dean's grumbling complaints about him hogging blankets and rolling over to Dean's side of the bed. He'd do his best not to do that. 

Sam bent his knees and felt his knee caps touch something humid. His eyes flew open and he pulled the sheet down to find Dean had never taken off the wet jeans. "Dean." His whisper fell on deaf ears and he sighed. He started to undo his brother's jeans. It might be his fault Dean had gotten all wet, but it would not be his fault that Dean had then slept in wet clothes. The fever had to be affecting Dean's brain. 

The sound of the zipper broke the silence in the room, and then Sam was trying to pull the clinging material down Dean's hips. 

Normally Dean was aware of Sam to a painful degree. Usually he could go from a dead sleep to fully alert in less than a second if he needed to, but he didn’t even stir. He didn’t feel the sheet slide off his body or the younger boy shift closer to him. But he wasn’t so gone as not to notice the feel of his brother’s hands at the waistband of his jeans. Though he didn’t wake up, a soft groan escaped his throat as he rolled over onto his back in response to the insistent tugging, a slight frown pinching his forehead in complaint. One part of his body might be interested but the rest of him certainly was not. 

"Too tired, Sammy… “No more… please,” Dean mumbled and tried to roll away from the younger boy. 

“Dean, don’t move,” Sam hissed in frustration. As if Dean weren’t heavy enough, now he had to roll him back. Still his brother was motionless. Gritting his teeth, he worked the pants down some more, eyes widening when he found his brother had gone commando. The wet material slipped from Sam’s fingers as he pulled away, trying not to look. Not that he hadn’t seen Dean in the nude often, like when he’d talked to him in the shower, but this was a bit… strange. He’d have to tease him about not wearing underwear later.

Once again leaning over to tug the damned pants off, Sam felt heat steal over his cheeks. He dragged his gaze away again, and tried to rush. Straddling Dean’s calves, he pulled harder until the jeans slipped past his knees and it got easier to get them off. “Just a little more. Almost there… almost,” he half chanted under his breath.

Dean didn't hear his brother's frustrated complaints. He simply rolled over onto his stomach, hugging the pillow and kicking half heartedly in response to the hands tugging at his pants. If he appreciated the new freedom and comfort of being free from the wet pants, Dean didn't express it. He simply slipped deeper into his dreams now that the insistent annoying tugging was over and done with. He didn't even move except to snore softly when a light sheet was draped over his bare body. 

* * *

 

With Sam practically plastered up against his back, a long arm thrown over him and a leg wound between his own, Dean didn't think he had slept so good in a long time. That was how Dean woke. His brain feeling like it was wrapped up in warm cotton. His body wrapped up in heat. The sweat that had been generated between their bodies hot and making them practically stick together when he tried to move. Not that he wanted to move really. He was more comfortable than he would have imagined with an electric blanket draped over him in the middle of summer. He was just hard. Achingly so. His morning wood trapped beneath him, and all he could think about was rubbing his dick against that lean muscled thigh between his legs. 

 

"Sammy..." Dean moaned softly. 

The call brought Sam out of his heavy sleep. “Dean?” Sam lifted up slightly and rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “You alright? Need water?” he asked, eyes still closed. He listened to Dean’s even breathing and wondered if Dean was also half asleep.

Slowly, Sam started to realize he was practically on top of his brother. Like he used to sleep when he was a kid. It brought back lots of memories. How Dean used to sooth away his nightmares. Stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. Or assure him that he had a bullet with the name of anyone or anything that dared try to get to Sammy Winchester. God... he’d felt so safe, and so close to Dean then. 

He took a breath, wondered if they would ever get there again. Or was it something you grew out of? It hurt to think so, and there had already been too many tears between them. 

He laughed softly in Dean’s ear, tickling it with his finger. “Hey Dean, I’m all over you.” He laughed again, “aren’t you hot? You have to be sick if you haven’t kicked me away yet, hmm?” He ticked him again. “Dean... just like before, when we were kids.”

Yeah, his brother probably heard nothing or had no clue what he was babbling about. He started to move and found that his leg had gotten trapped between Dean’s. Laughing again, he started taking his leg back, a slight shock running through him when he suddenly realized and remembered he’d stripped his brother down to nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

The fog in Dean's brain didn’t dissipate even when the soft voice in his ear and the tickle of warm breath across his cheek pushed him towards waking. Was he awake? Or was he dreaming? He didn’t know the difference anymore. He was still too asleep to understand what his brother was whispering into his ear, but a content smile curved Dean's lips anyway. All he knew was that the warm weight against his back felt good, despite how hot he already was. It felt good, despite the fact he was not feeling so good… As long as Sam was with him he didn’t care how sick he felt.

So when he felt the younger boy’s heat begin to draw away, the leg tangled with his own withdrawing, Dean couldn’t stop the small moan of complaint that escaped his lips. Sammy… don’t leave… please don’t leave me. Love you… love you so much…

Dean rolled onto his side and then his back, trying to follow the younger boy’s withdrawing warmth. He managed to snake his arms around his brother’s slim waist and tug him close again. Their bodies flush. Skin to skin. His hard cock pressing insistently against the younger boy’s thigh. 

His fingers trailed slowly up the length of the younger boy’s back, over his shoulder blade, up the back of his neck to thread into the soft fall of hair. His fingers pet through the silken mass lovingly before he cupped the back of Sam’s head and tugged his brother closer. His lips seeking and finding Sam’s, warm and soft and just as sweet as he remembered. 

Sam had thought Dean was complaining, like he always did when something threatened to wake him. He stilled, just so he could move away more carefully, when Dean suddenly dragged him up hard against his body. Sam's exclamation was swallowed the instant he realized there was absolutely no room between himself and Dean, and that Dean's morning wood was pricking his thigh. A sense of fear and embarrassment swept through him, his cheeks burning. His heart slammed into his chest and he knew he had to get out of this predicament before his brother woke. "Ah..." He swallowed as his brother stroked his hair and held him just a little tighter, moving his hand behind his head and trapping him. Did Dean think...

Then their mouths were pressed together and Sam was bombarded by confusion. His brother was kissing him, Dean's tongue was inside his mouth. He should stop this, even if he had to wake Dean, he should. And then his tongue was playing tag with Dean's, and he hadn't even realized he was doing that, or how good it felt. His entire body was buzzing and thrumming in a way he'd never experienced. No, that wasn't true. This was a bit like how he felt when he needed to go to the bathroom to jerk off. Just the idea of jerking off, coupled with the heat Dean's mouth was generating inside him drew a deep groan from Sam.

Feeling Sam’s tongue playing against his own, feeling the younger boy’s stiffening flesh against his thigh, Dean moaned again in pleasure and need. His little brother was so damned sweet. So hesitant and shy even after everything they had already done. Quite frankly, Dean found it endearing and it made his protective instinct kick in to full gear even as it made him burn with desire. God, he could just imagine what it would be like to finally fuck the younger boy. To open Sam up slowly with his fingers and tongue until his brother was begging for more. Begging for him to slip inside that tight hot virgin passage and make love to Sam slowly. He would go slowly because he didn’t want to hurt Sam. Because he wanted his brother to love it, love Dean fucking him, as much as Dean would. He wanted Sam quivering and panting in his ear as he slowly filled him up over and over. He wanted his brother screaming his name as he came, his already tight muscles fluttering and clenching around him, making Dean spill his own seed inside… Soon… when Sam was ready. He wouldn’t do anything to scare his brother. He’d go slowly. As slow as Sam needed to. He wouldn’t rush this. He wanted to savor it…

Sam's heart constricted. Oh God...oh God, he was getting a stiffy. It wasn't just a morning stiffy, Sam was getting hard because of the way Dean was kissing him, and the way Dean's erection felt against his bare leg. Oh God, Dean pressed against him, and the pressure against his dick had Sam wanting to rub against Dean, needing to find an outlet for the heat pooling in his groin. Eyes widening at the thought of what he was about to do, Sam jerked out of Dean's hold and rolled to the side of the bed, one hand covering where his shorts tented. His breaths coming out much too fast, he stared at Dean's innocent face. So that's how he got all the girls!

Dean whimpered. Where was he going? Sam? He struggled to wake, to see what was wrong, but by the time he opened his eyes his brother was gone… was Sam even there? Of course not, it was just a dream, just like all the others… Dean made a soft sound of despair in the back of his throat as he rolled onto his stomach. Ignoring the hard ache of his cock pressing into the mattress underneath him. 

He was losing his fucking mind…

* * *

Sam started into the bathroom mirror, seeing his flushed face and his scarlet lower lip reddened from how hard he'd been biting on it as he tried not to wig out over what happened. Then the real struggle began. He really shouldn't reach for the Vaseline... really shouldn't. It would be wrong, so wrong in so many ways he couldn't begin to count. But no matter what he did, all he really could think about was how Dean felt and how he made him feel. God, if Dean ever found out he jacked off to that, he'd kick his ass. 

Twenty minutes later, a cleaned up Sam, dressed in shorts and a tee shirt pushed the door to Dean’s bedroom open. He had a hard time making himself look at Dean and felt his color rising the moment he tried. “I ... ah... I got breakfast ready. And I called your boss and told her no way you’re coming in.” He took a couple more steps into the room, dancing closer to the bed. “Seriously time to get up.” Dean’s face didn’t look flushed anymore, but he was still hella pale. “Dean?” Why was he afraid to touch him and check his temperature now? Dean was awake, he wasn’t going to pull him into his arms and...

Oh God, what if Dean remembered? No, no, no, Dean had been dreaming. Taking a deep breath, Sam added, “but wait till I get out of the room. Dude... since when do you go commando?” His voice cracked slightly as he thought about how Dean had felt against him.

Dean pushed himself up with a muttered curse as he looked at the clock. He was late. Or would have been late if Sam hadn’t already told the boss he wasn’t coming in. But he had to go in, damn it. Maybe the job and the pay was crap but they needed every extra dollar they could get right now. “Why did you do that?” Dean demanded and started to get up from the bed before Sam’s next words, about him going commando, made him freeze and look down, and then wrap the sheets tightly around his waist. He had gone to bed last night in his jeans for a reason. And Sam had… What if he had… no it had just been a dream, just a dream…

“Since when do you undress me?” Dean asked, trying for annoyance but it was fear that was making his heart beat so fast it felt like it might explode. It had to be a dream. Sam wouldn’t be in here talking to him right now if… he’d done anything…

Sam’s eyes widened as Dean started to get up but he let out a breath of relief as his brother just secured sheets around him. Not that he usually gave a rat’s ass about seeing Dean naked, but today... this morning... it was different. After the way he’d felt Dean’s arousal pressing into him as his brother kissed him, it had to be. Dean’s gruff questions startled him out of his reverie. “Well you were all wet. Had to be delirious to go to bed in wet jeans, so I took 'em... and you’re freakin’ heavy, by the way,” he added.

Dean sighed heavily and dry scrubbed his face. Fuck, he was so damned tired. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he had to get to work. “Go eat breakfast, I need to get ready.” 

“You... you’re gonna go to work?” Sam ignored Dean's order. “Dean, you don’t have the car. You’re gonna have to take the bus, sit out there... and... You’re not in any shape for it.” He could see the stubborn tilt of that Winchester jaw. “Look, you don’t look so hot. I mean you were hot all night last night. You have a fever that keeps coming back, and you need rest. That or let’s go to the hospital... get you checked out." He'd never seen his brother look so damned pale and weak, he wished Dean would agree to see the doctors again. "She said it was fine for you not to come in."

Dean made a face at Sam's suggestion he go back to the hospital even though he'd been thinking the same thing given the dreams… he didn’t want to call them hallucinations, but he swore he’d been awake… Then again he'd already been to the hospital and they had checked out his head, said it was fine, was just a concussion. Rest. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe that was all he needed. He felt sore and bruised, but mostly he was just tired. Maybe if he rested for just one day without any kind of stress, he'd feel better and the dreams would stop. “You're right. It’s probably not a big deal,” he relented, dropping his hand and laying back down. “The hospital already said I was fine, but I’ll rest, ok?” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, almost unable to believe he was still feeling so fucking drained after he’d just slept all night. 

By the expressions crossing Dean’s face, Sam thought he might have a fight on his hands. Then again, he really doubted Dean would make it out the door, or too far out the door. But when he finally agreed to rest, a sense of relief ran through him. “Okay. I’ll bring your breakfast in here,” he said, leaving the door open and walking out.

* * *

HE hovered invisibly over Dean. In his sleep, Dean had gotten a taste of his brother. Right now, he was primed and ready for more sex... just one touch would have Dean on his knees, crying for it. He was so pretty when he was needy, and even prettier when he tried to fight those dirty hidden needs, to control them for his brother. 

Speaking of the brother... HE sensed angst laced with lust coming from the younger boy. Interesting. Maybe later, once he finished the older Winchester, he’d give the younger one his brother back... until he wore Sam out too. Then both brothers would be together in eternity.

HE dropped down, on his knees, straddling Dean’s hips. Only the thin sheets separated his naked body from Dean’s. HE started to ride Dean, no preliminaries, nothing. “You kissed me. In your sleep, you kissed me. Why?” HE licked his lips, placed both hands on Dean’s chest and leaned down over him. “Is this what you really wanted, Dean?” 

The sudden weight landing on him was definitely not what Dean was expecting and the his yelp of surprise as his eyes snapped open was cut off by a moan he simply couldn’t contain at the sudden pressure against his groin.   
Heat. Pressure. Friction. 

“Sam…” Dean all but squeaked his brother’s name as his hands scrambled for some kind of purchase and ending up on the younger boy’s bare thighs. He practically choked on his next breath at Sam’s words. Kissed him? In his… but it was just a… he’d been dreaming… then what was this? What the fuck was this? "What…” 

Lust and confusion, so delicious. _Sam_ didn’t slow down, especially once HE felt Dean’s hand squeeze his thighs, sending heat spiraling through him. HE didn’t give Dean any personal space at all, still leaning over him, his hands splayed across Dean's chest. HE watched as Dean tried to get himself together, could see... could feel the teen's heroic internal struggle. Dipping his head down, HE licked across Dean’s mouth, felt the instantaneous reaction, so strong... so strong it made him dizzy. 

“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean groaned, his lips parting almost against his will. Only it definitely wasn’t against his will because he wanted this so fucking much it hurt. His lips ached to feel, to taste, the younger boy’s mouth. His hands burned to touch and caress every inch of soft warm skin. His cock was already hard and throbbing against Sam’s bare ass, the only thing separating their flesh a thin sheet, but even that was too much. He wanted, needed, more.

“Feels good... need this,” _Sam_ whispered, pulling up from Dean’s mouth before his brother could draw him into a kiss. “Ever since the last time. When you touched me... when your mouth was on me. Dean... I was imagining this... is... is that okay?” HE asked like HE was struggling with the question, like HE needed reassurance. “I was imagining this, and you calling me ‘baby brother’... can you do that? Do that for me?” Oh HE was wicked, but this boy had so much to give him. HE wanted to wring out every bit of Dean's emotions, and more.

Dean whined softly, protesting the loss of his brother's mouth against his. Panting. Begging silently with his eyes for more, even as the younger boy drove him crazy. He shouldn’t want this so much, damn it. He shouldn’t need this so much. He should tell Sam that they shouldn’t, it was wrong, that it had been a mistake. That he was sorry, he never should have laid a hand on his brother. He never should have kissed him. Never should have tasted him. Just because Dean was fucked up he shouldn’t fuck his baby brother up too… But the way Sammy was touching him, talking to him like he needed this just as much as Dean did, asking him if it were all right. So unsure… so beautiful… Dean's resolve crumbled away like a sandcastle before a tsunami. 

“It’s ok… it’s ok Sammy…” Dean reassured softly, need burning him up from the inside out, searing away all other thoughts until he didn’t give a damn. He slid his hands up the younger boy’s back, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer and not letting Sam pull away this time as he whispered, “Need this too, need you, baby brother, need you so much…”

Dean’s words, repeated over and over, crashed over _Sam_. He allowed Dean to pull him closer, but slowly, tantalizing him, making him wait for the contact between their mouths, making Dean want and need it so bad it hurt the teen. The way Dean was lifting his hips, rubbing his arousal against his ass, seeking relief, HE knew they were moments away from Dean rolling _Sam_ over. That the need building inside the teen would blow out of control.

“Me too... me too, Dean...” HE leaned down, letting his lips slide past Dean’s to his ear. “Want to try what we did before. But ...” HE hesitated. “I want to lay down, and then you can fuck my mouth. Want to see you... want to hear you saying it again, call me your baby brother. Is that sick? Am I sick, Dean?” Oh God such delicious guilt laced lust lanced through _Sam's_ body, before HE gave a silent snarl and dissipated into thin air, cheated out of its dessert by the real Sam.

Oh God! Was it sick? Yes. It was sick, twisted, and wrong in every possible way, but Dean couldn’t deny that he wanted it. The mental image burned like a brand into his brain and his cock throbbed hot and ready to feel his little brother’s lips wrapped around it. His baby brother’s mouth open wide and taking his thick cock as deep as he could as Dean fucked his mouth… God help him… He belonged in hell for wanting this, but he couldn’t make himself stop. Even if he dragged his brother down there with him? Even that horrifying thought wasn’t enough to cool the need inside of him and Dean hated himself all the more for it. Buy when brother suddenly vanished from in front of his eyes, his hands grasping nothing but air where there had been warm flesh, Dean’s mind was left reeling. What… not Sam… but… he’d been dreaming again? No, he was awake… What the fuck? 

Slightly red faced, Sam stood at the door. “Need what? And I’m not your ‘baby brother',” he huffed, unsure why it felt like an intimate moment or something. He had Dean’s coffee, and he’d brought him some toast. His brother’s face looked flushed, like it had when they’d kissed. And the sheets... they weren’t hiding much, not from Sam’s sharp gaze. 

Sam’s soft voice laced with half annoyance and half concern had Dean’s eyes snapping to the door. He could only hope the confused panic and the crushing guilt he felt was not visible on his face. Sam… his Sam, his brother, not his sick imaginings… had heard him. Oh god, how he must look. How much had Sam heard? What had he heard? Dean couldn’t even remember what he’d said anymore… He didn’t know what to say. Sam didn’t look disgusted, just concerned. 

Forcing himself to walk over and set Dean’s breakfast down on the nightstand, Sam sat on the edge of the bed. “Is your fever back?” Without giving Dean a chance to answer, he leaned over him, touched his forehead, his cheek, and slid his hand down over his throat. “You’re just a little hot.”

It was all Dean could do not to flinch away from his brother’s fingers. It was all he could do not to burst into hopeless tears and tell Sam everything, begging his brother’s forgiveness when he was done. Maybe he should go back to the hospital… this... wasn’t normal. But what the hell was he supposed to tell them? That he was hallucinating about fucking his fifteen year old brother? “I don’t know…” Dean finally managed to whisper. 

Dean’s admission just got Sam more worried. If there was any chance in hell that Dean would agree, Sam would have called an ambulance or figured out some other way to get Dean to the hospital. But he knew how it would all go down. First Dean would tell the doctors that he was just fine. They’d think the low grade fever was nothing, and send him home. Then Dean would kill him. So hospital was pretty much out. “Okay, we’ll watch the fever, and see what happens,” Sam reluctantly agreed. “But you gotta eat.” Ignoring the look of displeasure that crossed Dean’s face, he stuck a couple of the pillows up against the headboard and scooted a bit further away while Dean sat up. Dean really did look like hell.

Dragging his gaze away, Sam first had Dean drink some more water. Then he gave him the coffee, which Dean set on the other side of the bed. And then he watched his brother start eating the toast with jam. Only when Dean was half way done, was Sam satisfied that Dean had at least gotten something inside him. Neither of them had eaten the night before. He rambled on a little, just making conversation about having wanted to go to summer school and didn’t Dean agree it was dumb that only remedial students could go. 

Sam talking about wanting to go to summer school had Dean rolling his eyes a little. He’d never understood how Sam could actually enjoy school so much. Dean couldn’t wait to graduate just so he didn’t have to go anymore and could go on more hunts with Dad. He would have quit school early, if Dad had let him, but that was one thing their father had insisted on, that he graduate high school, even if Dean barely graduated. “You could always flunk a little, then they’d send you to summer school,” Dean suggested, expecting Sam's bitch face. 

Sam guessed Dean just didn't get how boring long vacations were, especially with Dean working and dad gone. And he wasn’t even gonna bring up the fact that it wasn’t a ‘real’ vacation when they didn’t do anything other than go on hunts. Looking at Dean from under his lashes, he figured he’d bored his brother enough. “I’m gonna bring the TV. in here,” he said. “We can watch.”

HE glared at the younger teen walking out of the room. How was it to take Dean, wring all of his lust out of him, when the younger Winchester planned on watching him so closely? Landing on the bed, straddling Dean thighs again, pushing the plate out of the way, HE licked the jam off Dean’s lips, putting a hand on his cheek. “Tell him no TV., you’re tired. Tell him to stay out of the room, and you can dream of me… Please Dean, I need you… need you so bad…” HE rubbed his mouth back and forth against Dean’s until the younger brother carrying the TV. was shuffling into the room. “Choose me…”

Sam was barely out of the room when Dean suddenly found himself faced with a very naked version of his brother in his lap once more, grinding down on him and licking his lips, and Dean’s thoughts of 'not right', 'very wrong' were pushed away by the thick blanket of lust that clouded his thoughts. Tell Sam to… ? Choose? Oh God… he needed this… needed Sam so much… but… 

An image of his brother sitting curled up on the bus bench in the rain flashed before Dean’s eyes and it was enough to penetrate the fog just a little. This wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t his brother… he… loved Sam. He needed Sam, not this. He wasn’t going to push Sam away again. He was going to control this, damn it! It was all in his head and he could control it!

“No…” Dean finally managed to force out, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. Not right. Something’s not right. Even as the hallucination vanished again, Dean put his hand to his forehead, groaning softly at the throbbing behind his eyes. He felt something warm and wet drip from his nose down to his lip, and when he tried to lick it away Dean wasn’t surprised by the thick taste of copper. Dean might have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. He looked up at Sam as his brother came in with the television, waited at least until the younger boy put it down on the dresser before he spoke. 

“I need to go back to the hospital.” 

Sam repositioned the television and turned, his smile vanishing as Dean's words hit him at the same time as the sight of blood dripping from Dean's nose. It took him just about three seconds to get to Dean's side, lifting his face up. He'd seen Dean bleed worse than this, a lot worse. But this was just confirmation of the bad feeling that kept coming and going. Nodding, he couldn't bring himself to say anything just yet. He passed Dean a towel that had been hanging off the chest of drawers, and came back to sit down next to him as he called for an ambulance. 

"Ah... yes, that's my address. It's my brother, he's sick. Well, actually he has a nose bleed and--" Sam frowned as he was cut off by the voice on the other side telling him that due to the weather, they were having lots of nose bleeds. Then he was asked how much blood there was. "Well not much at the momen--"

He grit his teeth as he was advised on how to deal with nose bleeds, something he was very familiar with. "Hold on, listen to me," he insistent, eyes narrowing in frustration. "I'm not just calling about a fu... a nose bleed. He was in an accident, they said he might have a concussion. He's had headaches and he just..." Sam looked over at Dean. "He doesn't look right. Instead of getting better, it looks like he's getting worse. Fever? Last night yeah, now only a little... maybe."

He grit his teeth as the dispatcher talked to him about the flu and that Dean was probably experiencing multiple problems, rather than just one major issue. He took a couple breaths, deep ones, then he shouted, "Oh my God, his eyes are rolling back... oh my God, oh my God... get here... help me..." with that, he dropped the phone onto the table and crossed the room. Returning with shorts, sweats and a tee, he pulled the sheets off his brother's naked body. He wasn't kidding around anymore, nor was he shy, he just didn't give himself time to think about what had happened in that bed early this morning.

"Legs." He pulled the shorts up to Dean's knees, then followed with the jeans. "Can you stand?" Putting an arm under his brother's armpit, he started to haul his heavy ass up, tugging on his clothes at the same time. 

Fuck, their dad was going to kill him… their insurance cards were going to be worthless after this. Two hospital visits AND an ambulance? If they’d had a car, Dean would have insisted that Sam drive him, but they didn’t, because he’d gotten stupid drunk, crashed it, and now he might be bleeding into his brain… He wasn’t embarrassed in the least when Sam tugged away the sheets from him and started helping him get dressed. He had other shit to worry about right now. “Yeah,” he confirmed, though he was shocked by how unsteady he really was. He could stand, barely, but he had to hold onto his brother as a wave of dizziness hit him and he was afraid he might lose what little breakfast he’d had. 

His brother was so fucking cooperative that it scared the crap out of Sam. He tried not to show it, tried to be strong and positive, getting him dressed and helping him back down onto the bed. It hadn't escaped his notice that his brother had put practically his entire weight on him. And he'd thought he could go in to work? He noticed the way Dean's brows furrowed, like he was worried too. "It's gonna be alright. You don't have to worry about... work and shit, not now Dean. I'll take care of it, alright?" If he had to, he would call their dad. But that would be a last resort because it would be a heckofalot better if everything was normalized, car was fixed, and Dean was better before their dad got back. There might still be yelling, but it wouldn't be the kind that would blow the roof off the house.  
The sound of sirens approached. "Lemme get the door," Sam said, swapping the towel Dean had been holding against his bleeding nose. "Hold your head up." Fear made him snap, then guilt flooded his insides. No time for apologies, Dean would understand.

It was the hardest thing, standing back, watching the paramedics take his brother's vitals, getting told to shut up when he tried to ask questions. Dean was a mess... but so was Sam. He felt lost, unable to help, and the lack of information killed him the most. 

Sam made them let him ride with Dean in the ambulance. All he grabbed was the lap top and Dean's wallet. His eyes were always on his brother, encouraging, telling him it was fine. It wasn't as if Dean was going into cardiac arrest or having a stroke or an aneurism... Oh my God, he had to stop thinking like that. He ran his hand though his hair, telling himself again, it would be fine. Dean had been injured a lot worse... this wouldn't... it couldn't... no, he just looked bad but this couldn't be life threatening.

*

In the hospital, they took his brother away. Sam paced the halls, eyes swinging toward every doctor, every nurse that came out of the swinging doors through which they'd taken Dean. Eventually, a doctor came out to talk to him. The doc told him that though Dean had a low grade fever, and they weren't sure why he was suffering from the nose bleed, they couldn't see anything specifically wrong. Then he launched into an explanation of the MRI testing and what to expect from the results, when they came out.

*

The blue-clad male nurse walked into the hospital room behind the female and told her he'd take over. The instant she left, HE turned to Dean, shifting into Sam's form. "You should have listened to me, chosen me. Now look where he brought you." The confident air fell away from _Sam_ and HE approached the bed hesitantly. "You're sick. I'll make you feel better Dean. I will, promise," HE said, biting his lower lip as he peeled the thin white sheet off his brother's body. He ran his hand down Dean's chest, then over the light blue hospital pants, cupping his groin. "Want it? Want me to make this all go away Dean? Want to come in my hand?"

He wasn’t asleep, at least Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep when he heard Sam’s voice. Soft and admonishing at first, but when he opened his eyes Sam looked only hesitant, unsure, and worried as he approached the bed. Dean tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. All he cared was that Sam was there. Finally Sam was there…

Dean sighed softly as the sheet covering him was drawn away and a soft moan escaped his throat when his brother’s warm hand slid down his body. God, even that light touch felt so good. He knew this was wrong but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even before Sam cupped him and squeezed him, Dean’s hips bucked up into the touch in spite of himself. A groan escaped his parted lips as he begged softly, "Sammy… yes… Sam…” 

HE knew how much Dean was resisting, wanting to escape, wanting his real brother to help stop these ‘dreams’ that went too far. At the same time, how could Dean resist when HE wore Sam’s face? When HE was everything that Dean wanted and needed, especially now, once HE had given him a taste of forbidden fruit? “Don’t move,” _Sam_ whispered, grinding the heel of his hand into Dean’s cock, smiling with satisfaction as it filled out and hardened under his palm. “I’ll take care of you, Dean. Like you take care of me,” HE whispered. Eyes locked with Dean's, HE squeezed and pleasured Dean just enough to make him want more, to need it,

Dean wasn’t sure he could have moved even if he'd wanted to when Sam’s hand started squeezing and rubbing him through the thin pants. His cock was stiffening quickly to the stimulation despite how much like crap the rest of his body felt. Everywhere that Sam touched him, heat spread through him, making him forget about anything else but Sam’s touch. “Sammy…” Dean moaned, his eyes rolling back a little, and his stomach muscles clenching beneath his brother’s hand. His hips bucking up against the younger boy’s hand, seeking more of Sam’s touch. Yes, he wanted Sam to take care of him, he wanted Sam…

HE pushed his free hand under Dean’s powder blue top, moving it over his abs, digging his fingers in lightly, moving, and squeezing again, mapping Dean's body out. “Used to watch you. When you did your pushups, I used to watch. Then I’d go to the bathroom… and I didn’t know why I had to… I had to… Licking his lips, _Sam_ tugged Dean’s hospital pants down and closed his fist around his swelling cock. “I’d go slow, real slow, just saying your name… over and over… Dean, Dean… Dean…” HE panted.

The admission made Dean gasp and look at Sam in wonderment. God, was that true? Or was it only his sick imaginings that wanted it to be true? “Love you, Sammy… need you…” Dean gasped, begging as he thrust up into Sam’s fingers curled around his hard cock. 

_Sam_ stroked slowly, carefully, lovingly, sliding his fist up and down Dean’s hardening flesh. His gaze was fixed on the youth, weak and dizzy, a slave to the lust pumping powerfully through his veins. So much hope, so much need, such absolute desire. His nostrils started to flare, his heart beating faster as he feasted on Dean’s emotions, his desires. His own cock grew hard, so hard it took his breath away. “Want me to lick you?” _Sam_ showed Dean his tongue, and instantly felt the youth’s lust spike up... saw it in his eyes, in the way his hips moved with more desperation. “Want me to take you in my mouth. Suck you hard? Swallow you?” HE asked in a breathy tone, jacking Dean off just a little faster... still not enough to satisfy him... making sure he craved and wanted. 

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered his brother’s name again and again, every gentle stroke of the younger boy’s hand up and down his hard cock making him tremble. It was just a hand job, but because it was Sam it was so much more. He couldn’t stop moaning and trying to fuck up into the younger boy’s fist. Every stroke made it harder and harder for him to think. He didn’t even want to think anymore. He just wanted to feel this. He just wanted Sam to keep touching him… “Oh god…. Yes… Sam… yes…” He gasped, his fingers clenching in the sheets beneath him as though he was holding on for dear life. Just imagining his baby brother’s mouth on him again, licking him, sucking him. Dean was panting harder as Sam’s hand began to move faster along his flesh yet somehow still teasing him. Intensifying his arousal without bringing him to the edge, it was the sweetest torture that Dean had ever experienced.

HE moved his other hand over to Dean’s face, pushing his thumb into his brother’s mouth... watching as HE wove it inside and out the silky hot depths of his brother's mouth. “Just like that? Like you’re sucking my thumb, want me to?” Again and again, HE asked whether Dean wanted him to do things... things he stirred Dean’s imagination and desires with but cruelly withheld. It went on and on, until HE himself could stand it no longer.

“Please…” Dean whimpered and then moaned as Sam pushed his finger into his mouth. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed with a groan as he began to suck and swirl his tongue around the younger boy’s finger like it was Sam’s cock. He began to buck harder, moan louder, and he didn’t care that they were in the middle of a crowded hospital where any doctor or nurse could walk in and catch them at any time. All he cared about was Sam making him come, giving him release, God, he was so hard he hurt…

HE pulled the nursing uniform pants down climbed up onto the hospital bed over Dean. Straddling him would give too much satisfaction, instead, HE lay flat and started to lightly fuck against Dean, pressing and rubbing his cock against Dean’s, letting out soft moans. “Love you... love you too Dean.” A few seconds later, _Sam_ came. Eyes wide, filling with tears, HE started to apologize. “I’m sorry Dean... I couldn’t help myself, oh God...” Despite the fact Dean was bucking up under him, trying to find release, _Sam_ hopped off the bed, tears running down his cheeks. 

Dean forced his eyes back open when suddenly Sam was on him, the younger boy’s hard cock sliding against his own and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from shouting as his hands moved from gripping the bed sheets to gripping Sam’s hips. He choked on his own moans at Sam’s whispered words. Telling him he loved him.

“Sammy…” Dean breathed, watching in awe as his brother came undone, he was so close himself he felt like he was balancing on a razor’s edge as he continued to buck against the younger boy. But then suddenly everything changed, Sam looked like he was on the verge of tears as he scrambled away from him, apologizing. Leaving Dean unsatisfied, but he really didn’t care about that right now, despite his body’s needs. He managed to sit up, even though he was so dizzy, from lust or sickness he didn’t even know, he nearly fell out of the bed as he reached out to catch the younger boy’s wrist. “Sam, no, please… why are you sorry? You’ve don’t have anything to be sorry for. Please, Sammy… don’t cry… I love you.”

“No you don’t.” HE met Dean's “I wish you did... then you’d send him away.” Just like that, HE disappeared.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Sam asked, walking inside the hospital room and putting his arm around Dean who looked like he was trying to get out of bed. “You’re supposed to rest... what are you thinking?” He pushed his brother down and repositioned the pillows. Then he looked down the length of Dean’s body, swallowing at the sight of his brother’s erection. No he hadn’t been looking for it, but there was no way in hell he could miss it. Trying to keep his eyes off Dean’s groin, he pulled the sheets u, all the way to Dean’s chest, his own cheeks now flushing. “Please don’t do anything to make yourself worse, please?” 

His imaginary Sam's last words were like a knife to the gut and Dean found that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move as he stared into the space where his brother had been, no, the hallucination his mind had conjured up that had just reminded him what a sick fuck he really was. Left unsatisfied and bewildered by Sam's reaction, Dean was left with a cold bitter hole in his chest. He understood that this right here was Sam, his real brother, that it was Sam who helped him back into the bed and was fussing over him. But Dean was still far too shocked and numb to answer the younger boy’s questions or his concern. That was probably a good thing because otherwise Dean might have simply broken down into tears.

The worst part of it was, that the other Sam, the one he dreamed of, was right. Maybe not about sending his little brother away because Dean could never do that, but because if he really loved Sam then he wouldn’t be… getting off… so easily on his own sick fantasies. Even if they were only in his mind. Even if they didn’t really “hurt” anyone, he still shouldn’t allow himself… it was his baby brother he was fantasizing about damn it! His little brother, who wasn’t so little anymore, talking to him about the test results, that the doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with him. Looking at him so worried, and having absolutely no idea what a sick fuck his big brother really was.

Sam had half a mind to put the railings up, just to make sure Dean stayed put. But he could sit here and make sure he didn’t try anything. “They.... so far they can’t find anything wrong. Some of the results will come tomorrow, but...” Sam shrugged. “They said maybe you have a flu and that the symptoms you’re feeling are worse because of the accident.” Sam didn’t believe it. Not in his gut. He touched Dean’s forehead again, then leaned over him. “Anything you haven’t told us? A pain somewhere else, maybe? Anything Dean, you gotta help us out, here.” 

Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam in the eyes as he slowly shook his head. It’s not like he could tell his brother about the hallucinations. He could tell Sam he was seeing things, but then the younger boy would grill him endlessly on exactly what he was seeing and his brother could see through his lies more often than Dean liked. Maybe something would come back on the tests…

“Dean?” His brother looked so damned hopeless… Biting his lower lip, Sam let him go, but stood close to the bed for a while, never taking his eyes off Dean. Weird… he got the feeling his brother was avoiding his gaze, like he was trying to hide something. Then again, knowing Dean, he might just be hiding his pain. 

Sam didn’t know what to do. He felt so damned helpless. A voice in his head told him it might be time to call dad. Was it to that point yet? He had no clue. The docs said one thing… but Dean looked… he looked worse than he did when he came out of any difficult hunt. When his brother said nothing more, Sam flicked the TV. on, if only to fill the room with some sound. 

Hours went by, neither of them talking. When lunch was brought to Dean, Sam had to talk him into having at least a little of it, and then he finished up the left overs. One thing Sam wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on was drinking, he made sure Dean got plenty of water.

The nose bleeds continued. They’d stop, then he could sense Dean was getting dizzy or nauseous again, and then scarlet liquid would start dripping again. Frustrated by getting no answers from the doctors and staff, Sam plugged in the beat up lap top. Thank God the hospital had a free network.

For hours, he tried to find answers, putting together everything he knew. Accident. Head injury. Nausea. Nose bleeds. Looking over at Dean, he decided to add to his list, ‘overemotional.’ He might not be going nuts, but Sam felt the undercurrent of emotions. He’d put it down to their issues, but nah, there was something more.

Meanwhile Dean was locked with the torturous thoughts tumbling in his head, by Sam's accusation that he didn't love him, by trying to piece out what he'd meant. 'If he really loved Sam he’d send him away…' He couldn’t… he couldn’t send Sam away… he couldn’t hurt the younger boy like that again. Pushing him away like that… he’d promised Sam he wouldn’t… that he would try to make it better.

A little later, Sam suddenly looked up and reaching over, gripped Dean’s arm, asked. “Hey, you think you’ve come into contact with anything lately? Like… you know, not a disease but… What was that job you went on alone?” he asked. Neither his dad nor Dean had talked about it, other than in general terms that he’d guessed were meant to stop his questions. When that didn’t work, his dad had shut him up with a reminder that he didn’t seem all that interested when he’d first mentioned the job… yeah, cause he’d been keeping his head down and trying not to get dragged into it. “You know, the one you wouldn’t talk about. Just thinking what if… I know it’s crazy, but what if the doctors are right? What if this isn’t a _physical_ thing?” 

Dean felt himself go cold. He stared down at Sam’s hand gripping his arm even as his mind raced. Could it? Maybe it wasn’t all in his head? Why hadn’t he thought that before? Or had he? He wasn’t sure anymore, he always got so confused… distracted…

“No, I don’t think so.” Dean finally forced out. It was a bald faced lie, but it’s not like he could tell the younger boy the truth. He could never tell Sam what he was seeing. If it really was some kind of creature and not all in his head, Dean had to deal with this… it… by himself. He had more than enough anger and determination to do so. Taking his brother’s form… toying with him… He just had to figure out what the hell it was and he was going to kill the son of a bitch. 

Noticing the way Dean looked at his hand, Sam immediately let go of Dean’s forearm. He didn’t want to let go of the subject, he wanted to explore it further, but he recognized the stubborn look Dean was wearing. And they said Sam was the stubborn one. “Maybe we should think about it. Explore it… possibilities, brainstorm…” He trailed off when Dean’s reaction remained essentially unchanged. Yeah, Dean thought he was he was making up crap, or was grasping at straws. Dean was the expert, he and dad, and Sam knew nothing. Right. Sam tried not to be hurt. Nah, he was angry, not hurt. This was just another example of not taking him seriously, wanting him to be part of ‘their team’ but yet never really treating him like he could add any real value. Not that he wanted them to think otherwise… hell, it would make leaving easier. When the time came.

Sighing, he got up. He couldn't stand seeing Dean like this. Pale. Weak. Defeated. Setting the lap top on the chair, he stretched. “I’m gonna stretch my legs and get something from the soda machine. I’ll get you something too.” He walked out the door, rubbing his eyes as he headed down the long hall. The cafeteria, with its vending machines was on the basement level. He’d take the stair, just for the exercise. 

Sam had let it go rather quickly, and maybe that should have worried Dean, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth right now. His brother left the room, giving Dean time with his own thoughts as he tried to "brainstorm" like the younger man had suggested. Tried to come up with possible ideas of what it could be. Something that could appear and vanish without a trace at will. Something that could change forms. Something that could read his mind, knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what his worst fears were. Then, of course, there was the sex...

The first thing that came to Dean's mind was a Succubus, but Succubae were all female. Maybe some other kind of demon? Something similar? 

He almost expected... it... to show up now that his brother left the room. But when it didn't come back, he wondered if it knew Dean was on to it now, that it would be more careful, or better yet, leave all together. That was probably wishful thinking though. His eyes fell on the chair that his brother had vacated and the laptop sitting on it. After only a moment's thought he leaned over and grabbed it. Sam probably wouldn't be gone long, but he could at least try to start his own research, if he could just get a better idea of what he might be dealing with. 

The search was actually surprisingly short. Dean just typed in two simple words: Male Succubus, not really knowing where else to begin but a result came back immediately.

_An Incubus..._


	5. Chapter 5

After chatting with the nurses for just a little while and finding out the time that the doctors were expected in the morning, Sam made his way back to Dean’s room. Finding him using his lap top, he smiled. “This is so not the time for porn.” Yeah… the way he’d found Dean earlier, really not the time for it. But he was happy that Dean was actually doing something. He’d barely watched TV. and had hardly spoken except when Sam practically forced him to answer questions. This was the first time Sam had seen him actually engaged by anything since morning.

Dropping down into his seat, Sam pulled the tab off a soda can and set it down next to the lap top on the table that went across Dean’s bed. Then he opened the other and took a long drink, quenching his thirst. 

Dean had been so caught up in his research that he hadn’t even realized his brother was there for a couple of moments. He quickly closed out the pages he was looking at before the younger boy returned to the chair he’d vacated earlier. In the short time Sam had been gone, Dean had read up as much on Incubi as he could in the short time that Sam was gone. Unfortunately he didn’t come across much more than basic lore and no information on how to get rid of one or kill one. Maybe the same things that could kill a succubus would kill an incubus? That was really a shot in the dark because although they were similar in that they used sex to drain their victims of their life force, there were plenty of differences too. He could try to kill it and end up only pissing it off… generally pissing off any supernatural creature was a bad thing. So far it had only come to him in the form of his little brother. Dean really didn’t want to see the thing in its true form with no way to kill it.

“You look a little better. Maybe… maybe you’re getting better.” To Sam, Dean still looked pale, but there hadn’t been bleeding in a while, and his eyes looked a bit more animated rather than glazed over. “This better not be your way of getting out of going to the lake… I still expect you to take me,” he said, not hiding his smile. That was a long way off. Dean had to get better, and then the car would need to be repaired. Maybe dad would be back by then and his fun trip would definitely be shot in the ass by the elder Winchester. 

Dean smiled a little in thanks for the soda and took a drink from it, just realizing his throat was pretty dry. Sam had been making him drink but it probably hadn’t been enough. “Maybe,” he answered off-handedly. Yeah, he was feeling better and it was because the incubus hadn't visited for a while. Dean was a little surprised it hadn’t shown up while Sam was gone. Maybe it had decided to take off on its own after all? Having a hunter for lunch was pretty dangerous, especially if that hunter was on to you, Dean could hope. 

He gave a snort at Sam’s comment about the lake. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I promised I’d take you didn’t I? So I’ll take you.” Dean gave his brother a more genuine smile. Once he killed that son of a bitch incubus he was looking forward to him and Sam just hanging out, making things better between them. He’d promised, after all, and he’d meant it. 

“Yup... you will,” Sam agreed, making it sound like a threat. He could be like a dog with a bone. “You done with the laptop... or you can play with it,” he said, assuming Dean was looking at porn. It was a good sign. Then again, he wished he hadn’t thought of porn and Dean in the same sentence. He couldn’t help remembering the kissing in bed and that had his cheeks burning. Steadfastly, he looked up at the television and took a drink of his soda. There was no way he was letting his mind go to what would have happened if he hadn't scrambled out of bed, no freaking way. Not even if he had jerked off to thoughts along those lined, he'd gotten it out of his system and now it was over. Completely. Over.

*

By the time the doctors came in the late morning, Sam was so damned tired you’d think he’d been up all night. He’d slept, but it hadn’t been comfortable in the chair. Then there were the nurses who came in and out checking on Dean, waking both of ‘em up all night long.

And now the doctors were saying there was nothing wrong with Dean, that he should go home and just get some rest. The nose bleeds were from the weather. Sam was pissed but there was nothing he could do, especially once Dean started to agree with them.

It took practically all day before Dean was actually discharged and then they’d gotten a ride from one of the nurses who had finished her shift. Sam had given Dean a look when she offered. It was clear she was interested, and after helping to get Dean to bed, she offered to come back at night, on her way back to the hospital.

Arms crossed, leaning against the wall, Sam waited to hear his brother’s answer.

Nurse Julie was pretty damned hot. Her offer to come back… definitely tempting… but one look at his brother’s bitch face made Dean forget about even considering accepting. “Thanks, but our dad will probably be home by tonight. Maybe some other time though,” Dean said, giving her one of his most “sincere” regretful smiles as he could. 

Sam rolled his eyes. How was it every other girl fell for his brother, whether he was ill and looking like shit or was his normal looking like shit self? _Anyone who kisses like that..._ Eyes widening at the unbidden thought, he tried to shove it away. Not like the nurse would know Dean's kissing style before she tried it out. Then he thought about how he shouldn't even be thinking about Dean's kissing style.  
Dean was glad that the nurse didn’t seem upset at his answer. Disappointed maybe, but not upset. Really, if he didn’t have bigger things to think about right now he probably would have taken her up on her offer, if only to take the edge off his desire for Sam. That’s all having sex with other people seemed to do for him, take the edge off his sick needs but never making them go away completely. There was a reason the damned incubus chose to appear to him as Sam. Dean tried really hard not to think about how it had felt like to finally touch Sam’s skin, to taste him, even if it wasn’t real. It was as close as he’d ever gotten to what he needed, and as close to feeling satisfied as he’d been in a while. Even when the damned thing was toying with him, leaving him hard and aching more than half the time.

His thoughts were mercifully cut off when his brother returned from walking the nurse out and offered to watch TV with him. He could tell Sam was just as tired as he was, and even if Sam wasn’t, Dean needed to do some more research on that incubus. Maybe Dad would have some information here he could use. “I think I'll catch some sleep and you gotta be as beat as I am. I’ll call work and then get some sleep. You should too.”

“Okay, yeah, I am tired,” Sam agreed. “I’m gonna get you some water.” In the kitchen, he almost whistled. Dean did look better. A lot better, even if the hospital hadn’t really done anything special. He had some more color in him, and he was a lot more… if not lucid, then ‘with it’ was the phrase he was looking for. Yeah, his brother was on the mend.  
Returning to Dean’s room, he set the talk glass of water down, then almost self consciously climbed over Dean to get to the other side of the bed. “Wake me up if you need anything,” he said. He’d decided he wouldn’t leave Dean alone cause what if the fever came back, or he started bleeding again? Rolling on his side, giving his brother his back, closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Before Dean could protest that he didn’t need any water Sam was already gone and he sighed a little and shrugged to himself. Sam seemed determined to play nurse maid but he couldn’t really feel all that upset by it. In fact, it made him feel good knowing that Sam cared about him enough to wait on him when he was sick. Dean smiled a little. He’d put up with it a few more days before he told Sam to cut it out. Though when his brother proceeded to practically climb over him to get to the other side of the bed, Dean’s heart did a little flip flop. He’d expected Sam to go back to his room now that he was obviously feeling better. 

He decided to wait a little while to make sure that Sam was asleep before he got up to do more research on the incubus. Researching while Sam was sleeping next to him was not going to be easy. What would he say if Sam woke up and asked him what he was doing? Dean could use the porn excuse so many times. Even a teenager couldn’t get it up that often. Once he relaxed back against the pillows, he started to think maybe he could actually do with a little rest himself. Later, if he was feeling better, he could let Sam know he was fine and maybe the younger boy would let up on his “watch.” 

Dean went ahead and closed his eyes. He figured while Sam was there he’d at least get an uninterrupted sleep.

_... It wasn’t the first time Dean been wrong._

*

HE was near the end of his tether, waiting for Dean to be alone. First the twenty four hours at the hospital, and now here! Unable to wait any longer, HE dropped into the room, naked, and on all fours, facing away from Dean. HE looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Dean, I need you,” HE whispered, stretching and arching his back. 

He could feel need building inside Dean, but some resistance as well. HE couldn’t allow that, couldn’t let Dean regain lost ground. Biting his lip, HE moved his hand to his cock and started stroking himself. His brother couldn’t see everything, but just enough to kick start his hormones and allow the addiction to grip him.

Dean had been tugged out of sleep by a powerful surge of arousal and instantly knew that the incubus was there. It was getting bolder, showing up while Sam was sleeping right next to him. It was hungry. That didn’t bode well for him.

But even as he thought all these things, as he pushed himself up to look at it, he couldn’t stop his breath from hitching in his throat. Jesus fuck… Seeing Sam on the floor on all floors, his perfect pale ass facing him, just begging to be fucked. Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from moaning at the sight of Sam’s fingers playing over his cock and balls. His dick was already hardening even as he told himself over and over that it wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t his brother it was a monster. Sam was sleeping right next to him… and what would Sam think if he woke up to see that thing? See it looking like him and Dean already so hard he was pitching a tent underneath the sheets?

Dean swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully seeing Sam eyes fill with tears even though Dean knew it wasn’t Sam. That part of him that knew it wasn't Sam was slowly fading into the back of his mind though. The knowledge this thing wasn’t Sam becoming buried under lust so strong he couldn’t feel anything else. Not weakness, not sickness, only need. He needed Sam and Sam… needed him…

Whimpering, HE pleaded. “Really need you Dean. Want you… please, like you showed me before. Please.... ” Biting his lip, HE stroked himself a few more times then started to crawl to the door. Gripping the door frame, HE stood up, still showing Dean only his back. His shoulders shook. He turned, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Hurts Dean… when you don’t touch me. When you push me away… when you look away. What have I done? Do you want me to leave?” Without waiting for an answer, HE walked out.

No, don’t leave… Dean tried to say but he couldn’t get the words past the tightening in his throat. Instead Dean pushed aside the covers and stood. Not caring in the least how unsteady he was. He simply followed Sam out the door.  
As HE walked out, HE barely held back a sound of growled pleasure. Dean's need, his absolute arousal crashed over _Sam_ again and again, feeding him. Oh it was delicious, it was heroic, how Dean was fighting... and how he was losing. Losing bad. He knew the youth would go mad if he didn't have _Sam_ and now, and HE ratcheted up Dean's feelings and emotions, without looking back at the older Winchester stumbling behind him.   
HE headed straight for the kitchen table. Moving his forearm across it, HE cleared it of papers and weapons, then crawled on top of it. On his knees, HE crouched down to his elbows, moving one hand between his legs and stroking his shaft, moaning the instant HE heard Dean come up behind him.

The window was open. _Sam_ turned his head toward it, licking his lips. "Sometimes... sometimes Mr. Totten, the neighbor... he watches with his binoculars." Desire and jealousy... that would make for an explosive combination. Dean Winchester had left him hungry and now he would pay twice over. "Saw him once at my window... his hand was in his pants," HE told his brother. "Dean... it made me hard, even when it was you I was thinking of. Is that alright?" Brilliant blue-green eyes turned to meet his brother's. "Is it?"

Following Sam into the kitchen, Dean had no idea what the hell the younger boy wanted there. The truth was, he didn’t really care as long as he got what he wanted. His dick was so damned hard it was making it even more difficult for him to walk. Seeing Sam spread out on the table with his ass high in the air, any remaining blood that hadn’t already rushed to his cock made its way quickly there. Holy fuck, he’d never seen anything so sinfully beautiful. So perverted and perfect. Sam waiting for him, moaning and touching himself. The younger boy giving him the absolute perfect view of his ass and his tight little hole Dean wanted nothing more than to plunge his fingers deep, opening Sam up to take his cock. 

He had no idea whether or not his brother’s words were true. Something in the back of his mind told him they were probably a lie, but he didn’t fucking care right now. Just the idea of some old pervert watching Sammy, getting off on watching his little brother, and Sam liking it. Rage flashed through him so hot he practically shook with it. He crossed the distance between himself and Sam and grasped his brother’s hips with a growl.

“No, it’s not all right.” Dean hissed as he pulled his brother back against him, forcing Sam’s hips to the edge of the table and pressing down over the younger boy’s back at the same time. As his hands roamed all over his brother’s body like he owned it, he rubbed his crotch against the younger boy’s ass. The light hospital pants he was still wearing barely a barrier, his cock fit easily between Sam’s soft cheeks. Dean bit at the soft flesh of his brother’s shoulder, licking soothingly over the marks he’d made, and then bit the younger boy again a little higher on his neck. Working his way up until he reached Sam’s ear. “You’re mine.”

As Dean's emotions spiked, so did _Sam's_ pleasure. A deep groan broke from him as Dean was uncharacteristically brutal, pulling him roughly to the edge of the table, hands roaming his body, possessively biting into his tender flesh, reminding him who he belonged to. HE felt Dean's cock, unbelievably hard with built up need from all of the sexual torture since his brother had taken to watching him like a hawk, pressing insistently between his ass cheeks, and groaned. Once Dean was inside him, HE was sure the hunter would be gone to this world… he'd be all his. He'd never be able to give up his drug… he'd kill for him, even kill that little brother he loved so much.

"Dean… " HE moaned, as HE was bitten on the shoulder then throat, a thrill running through him at Dean's insistent 'mine.' "Yes, yes I'm yours… but you weren't here… you didn't want me then, and he did," _Sam_ started to cry. "He looked at me the way I wanted you to. That's why I liked it Dean. I imagined your eyes when he stared so hard, and your hand when he reached in his pants and asked me to show him more."

Dean groaned, his fingers digging a little deeper into Sam’s soft flesh. “Always wanted you, Sammy. Always…” Dean growled possessively in the younger boy’s ear. Rubbing his cock harder against Sam’s perfect virgin ass and groaning his pleasure and need into his brother’s mouth as he took the younger boy’s lips in a scorching kiss. His tongue forcing his way into Sam’s mouth as his hands slid up his brother’s torso, pulling Sam upright and back against his chest. Forcing Sam to lean back against him as his hands slid possessively all over the younger boy’s front. Toying with and pinching his brother’s nipples until they were hard little nubs before sliding his hands down.

HE moved back, nudging his ass against Dean's arousal, grinding against him. "Make me forget him. Make us forget him, Dean. Please…" HE demanded between kisses. "Need you to fuck me… fuck him out of my mind. Please." 

Oh yes. He was going to fuck Sam. He was going to fuck his little brother and make him his. Any old pervert looking in on them was going to know just what a sick fucked up family they really had when they watched his little Sammy taking his cock up his ass. But they were going to also know that Sam was his and only his!  
Dean’s fingers curled around his brother’s hard weeping cock. Stroking the younger boy hard and fast while he continued to rub his trapped erection between those hot perfect ass cheeks. The front of his pants grew damp from his own leaking fluids, and he moaned his pleasure into the younger boy’s mouth with abandon. 

Raising his arm, _Sam_ managed to hook it behind Dean’s head, with made it easier to kiss and be kissed at that angel. Dean’s kisses were an inferno of emotions. Desire. Need. Love. Jealousy. The beginnings of a claiming. _Sam_ writhed at the things Dean’s hands were doing to his body, while his mouth was taken, over and over by Dean’s tongue. Sounds broke from him, loud... getting louder, even though HE was aware of the need for quiet. “Oh ... oh God, De... Dean,” _Sam_ practically shouted, falling back against his brother as a shudder shook him from head to toe. HE could feel the wet material rubbing against his ass, knew Dean was getting close to the point of no return. HE whimpered. “Need you ... need _something_ Dean... please... please, HE moved restlessly, fucking his brother’s palm. “Don’t stop... please....”

Finally, Dean broke their kiss and pushed the younger boy back down so that he was spread out on the table once more. Moaning at the sight, his touches morphed quickly from rough to gentle as he ran his now sticky wet fingers down the length of Sam’s back. Sliding boldly over the cheeks of his brother’s ass and then even more tenderly between them. His fingers eagerly found the younger boy’s hot puckered hole, a moan leaving him as he circled his brother’s opening with the tip of one slick finger. “Relax for me, baby brother. Relax and I’ll be inside of you soon,” Dean whispered soothingly, caressing up and down the younger boy’s back as he slowly pushed his finger into Sam’s willing body. 

HE felt Dean touch him in a place he hadn’t dared to before. A whimper broke from _Sam_ as he turned his head to watch his brother. Then Dean was pushing his finger inside and _Sam_ reached behind him and grabbed Dean’s arm. “Mmn... Dean... don’t know... don’t know...” HE chanted, but his body moved back and forth, so that HE was fucking himself on Dean’s finger, playing both on his brother’s fears and lusts at the same time. “Dean... I want... I don’t know if I want this... Dean please... please!” .

Dean froze when Sam’s hand gripped his arm, stopping him from pushing his finger any deeper into the younger boy’s body… but also preventing him from pulling back. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs he was afraid it might break free any second. Guilt and lust warring inside of him. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t be doing this… it was wrong to touch Sam this way. So very wrong… he shouldn’t… Sam didn’t want him to, his brother had stopped him…  
But the younger boy was also moving his hips back and forth, taking Dean’s finger into his body, fucking himself. So hot… so fucking tight and hot. Feeling that exquisite tight heat had Dean’s dick throbbing so painfully hard he moaned with more pain than pleasure now. Sam didn’t want him to stop, he was just unsure. Dean would show him it was ok, show him how good it could feel. 

The older boy leaned forward, running his hand possessively up and down the length of his brother’s back. Encouraging the trembling muscles to relax. He laid himself over Sam’s back, pressing his erection against the younger boy’s hip as he wiggled his finger a little inside his brother’s body. Pressing tender kisses to the back of Sam’s neck.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna feel good, so good, Sammy. Just relax…” He whispered, drawing his finger out and pushing a little deeper. Curling the digit to search out the special place within Sam that would make his brother whimper and moan even more. 

Dean began to kiss his way down his brother’s back, following the line of his spine. His tongue darting out occasionally to taste the sweat slick skin. Not stopping even when he reached the perfect swell of the younger boy’s buttocks. His tongue sliding between those perfect cheeks, holding Sam open with his other hand as his finger continued to slowly push in and out of that tight hole. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, Sammy. Nice and wet for me, baby brother.” Dean whispered, his hot breath ghosting over the tight puckered flesh. His tongue finally darting out to lick around that enticing hole, opening Sam up with his finger and tongue. 

_Sam’s_ whimpers died down. Then Dean touched him in way that made him moan and practically faint. HE turned to look at Dean, eyes wide with questions, HE licked his lips, shuddering when HE felt Dean’s tongue join that finger inside him. “Good... yes... Dean, that... that feels good,” HE managed, pushing back, trying to get more. This was rare... for a victim to be pushed this far, and yet to think of giving pleasure rather than taking it. Oh HE'd struck gold with Dean Winchester and wondered whether the brother would be the same when he preyed on him after Dean was dead and gone. 

It went like that for a while, with _Sam’s_ motions become bolder as he tried to get more of Dean in him, more of tongue, more of that finger. “Need... oh God,” shivering, _Sam_ reached for his own cock and started stroking to the rhythm of Dean’s finger, started making noises, almost demanding, “please ... what you said... please... need something, need you.” HE wanted, needed Dean to fall, fall for his brother, fall for his brother's needs, give in... fall to his own dark and forbidden desires, family be damned, father be damned, society be damned, future be damned... This moment, the need to fuck his brother would be so strong, Dean couldn't fight it, wouldn't... Dean would push his aching cock deep into young Sam's ass and get what he needed, and HE would make sure of it by whipping up Dean's lust, making it reach uncontrollable heights... no one could resist, certainly no boy just past his teenage years.

It was hard not to simply blow his wad like an adolescent getting his dick touched for the first time. Between the sounds Sam was making, how tight and hot the younger boy was around his invading tongue and finger, and the way his brother was eagerly pushing back into his face and hand, Dean was already so close to coming his dick felt like it was going to explode. But, damn it, he wasn't going to come like this! The only place he was coming this time was deep inside his baby brother while Sam whimpered and clenched around him.   
That's why when Sam asked for more, Dean didn't think about going slow or giving his brother as much time as the virgin boy probably needed to get used to him. He pulled his finger out of Sam, his tongue thrusting as deep as it could in its place while he reached down to his own cock. Finally pushing the sopping wet material down to his thighs, freeing himself. Groaning as he slicked up his fingers again before returning them to Sam's hole. Pushing two inside, working them deep and stretching his brother as much as he could in as short a time as possible. Dean knew that two fingers probably wasn't enough, but he simply couldn't wait anymore. He was panting and shaking with need when he finally drew back. The sight of Sam's wet hole with his fingers shoved so deep inside of him making him groan again, he used his other hand to grip the base of his dick hard. 

"Dean! Give it to me! Please!" _Sam_ pleaded.  
"Gonna give you what you need, Sammy. Don't worry." Dean whispered huskily as he drew his fingers out of Sam's tight body and positioned his cock at his brother's entrance. He was already so slick from his own fluids he didn't bother lubing himself up anymore. "Relax for me, baby brother, and I'll give you what you need." Dean groaned, grasping Sam's hip to steady the younger boy as he began to push inside of his brother. Still holding the base of his dick tightly to keep himself from coming from the friction caused by that tight ring of muscle slowly opening up for him until finally, finally, velvet heat surrounded his cock in the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.

"Oh God, Sammy… oh God…" The Dean muttered under his breath over and over as he slowly sheathed himself into his brother. He didn't think he could have stopped now even if he wanted to. 

“Mmmph... Dean...” _Sam_ almost collapsed and it was only his brother’s tight grip that held him in place. So hot, so hard... finally inside him, finally so deep that Dean would never want to leave him... would die for him... would leave everyone and everything else behind for another taste of this, and another. Shivering around the cock splitting him in two, _Sam_ clenched around it, throwing his head back at the burn. “So big Dean... I can feel you all the way... oh God...” HE took a couple of loud breaths. “Hurts... hurts so good Dean, please do something... oh God, I don’t know what to do... please.” HE turned his head to the side, biting into Dean’s shoulder as HE started to move against him, banging his ass back against Dean’s hips, needing him to grind... to fuck.

Come one... fuck. Fuck... Wild with hunger and desire, _Sam_ writhed uncontrollably, demanding everything Dean could give him, demanding it now.

Sammy was already so damned tight Dean knew he should have been afraid he was really hurting the younger boy, and a part of him was, but at the same time he simply couldn’t think beyond the exquisite forbidden pleasure he was experiencing. So damned hot. So damned tight. So damned perfect. An almost pained moan was ripped from his throat when he felt Sam’s body tighten around him even more. Fuck, he knew it would be good, but he never imagined… “Fuck Sammy…” Dean whispered, his fingers flexing on the younger boy’s hips. He needed to move so damned badly, needed to draw out and plunge even deeper into his brother’s tight willing body, to ride the younger boy till they were both screaming out in pleasure. But he felt frozen in place, almost paralyzed. He needed this so damned badly but he couldn’t hurt Sam. He couldn’t…   
When his brother whimpered beneath him that it hurt, Dean’s heart froze for an instant only to beat triple time when Sam said it hurt _good_. Sam was begging him to do something. Grinding his hips back against him and Dean was lost. He started to move, drawing out and pushing into Sam with as slow shallow thrusts as he could manage. Holding Sam’s hips tightly as he angled his hips to drag his cock across that special place inside his brother over and over. Trying to loosen Sam up, trying to make it good, and trying not to hurt Sam.

He couldn’t hurt Sam, he would never hurt Sam, he’d made it good.

But desire was rushing through his veins like hot acid, burning away everything else, every other thought, every other need, and all he wanted and needed was this. He started drawing out further, thrusting in deeper, faster. He couldn’t stop. He needed this so much. He needed to fuck Sam, to fill his little brother up till his come was dripping out of the younger boy’s ass, and he wanted his brother to love every minute of it.

“Oh god, Sam. So good. Fuck… yeah… Sammy…” Dean grunted. The sound of hot skin slapping together and the table scraping across the floor a little with every one of his thrusts was so fucking hot. Dean rolled his hips, releasing Sam’s hip to reach around and take his brother’s cock in hand, stroking the younger boy in time with his deep thrusts. “Oh yeah… come on, Sammy… so good…”

“Ungh… Ungh…” _Sam’s_ head jerked back each time Dean pounded into him with wild abandon, like he’d dreamed of it a thousand times and was finally allowed at to touch… to have the forbidden candy, like nothing mattered as much as easing the desire that burned, consumed him for so long. “Yes… please more, Dean… please…” HE pleaded, fucking back against his brother’s hips, taking him inside his body, giving out cries of both pleasure and pain. So good, so good, Dean’s pain, Dean’s desire, Dean’s love, Dean’s need… all of it.

Once Dean’s fingers closed around his cock, _Sam_ leaned back a little, as far as he could, one hand still on the table, the other grabbing for Dean. Trying to touch him, to encourage him, to enflame him beyond a human’s capacity, to make him want like a wild animal, ride on instinct, unable to think beyond the one single need. “Ungh… ungh… Dean,” _Sam’s_ teeth rattled at the pressure with which his brother was coming at him, merciless, driven, needy. Yes, oh yes, give it to me Dean Winchester, everything you have… give it to me… give it to your bother.

The sounds his little brother was making every time Dean pounded into him went straight to his cock, making him even harder, if that was even possible, making him burn even hotter. As hot as the fires of hell surely for wanting this, needing it so damned badly, and finally taking it… “Sammy… Sammy…” Dean panted the younger boy’s name like a desperate prayer over and over. Giving Sam what he wanted. More. Everything. Everything he was. It was all Sam’s. His body belonged to Sam. His soul belonged to Sam. His life… everything…

Dean’s hand on Sam’s hip slid up to his chest, resting over the younger boy’s pounding heart, holding his brother against him. His lips captured Sam’s when his brother turned his face towards him. Swallowing those sweet needy cries, his own becoming lost in his brother’s mouth. His thrusts into the younger boy’s body practically lifted Sam off of his feet and it was a miracle they were able to remain upright. When Sam begged for even more his fingers tightened around his brother’s hard weeping flesh, stroking the younger boy harder, faster. 

So close… so close…

 _Sam’s_ hand slipped over Dean’s, as they pumped his cock together. “Need more Dean. Don’t hold back, please… need… ache… want… make me come… make me, Dean. Deaaan!!!”

His little brother practically screaming his name, in pain or pleasure Dean wasn’t even sure anymore, was enough to push the older boy over the point of no return. Every muscle in his body clenched and bucked and he nearly bit off his own tongue biting off the scream that erupted from his throat as he came. His balls emptying everything they had into his brother’s sweet clenching hole. His vision going completely white, leaving him breathless, weak, and shaking. If someone could actually go insane with pleasure he thought he might right now. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced and through every intense spasm he continued to whisper his brother’s name over and over.  
“Sammy…”

 _Sam_ fell apart in Dean's arms, ropes of come coating Dean's fist, dripping onto the table. HE fed and fed on Dean's emotions, on his lust, on the intensity of his need and his glorious release. Dean's life essence pumped into him, so delicious, so beautiful, HE would be sad when all that was left was Dean's dying husk. "We did it... did it Dean... was good. Hurts.. and tired... but good." HE licked his lips, laying flat on the table with Dean's weight on him, still panting. "Don't want to move, ever." Over his shoulder, he petted Dean's short spiky hair, wriggling a little under him. "Dean?" HE paused, "Does this mean you're mine now?"  
Dean's arms gave out with whatever was left of his strength and he collapsed heavily on Sam's sweaty bare back. His cock still pulsing, buried deep inside the younger boy, and it felt like his life was draining out of him rather than just his seed. That sent warning bells off in the back of his mind but they were faint at best. He simply couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus, on anything but Sam. He simply didn't... care. 

Good... yes, so good... he didn't want to move, he just wanted to stay like this, with Sam, forever...

He felt the soft fingers in his hair, heard the younger boy's sweet question, and smiled weakly against the back of his brother's neck. Yes... he was Sam's... he'd always been Sam's...

*

Sam woke to an empty bed. He'd dreamed he heard Dean calling him over and over again, but not like he was ordering him around. It was different, and it had Sam all hot and bothered and thinking about that damned kiss. Was he ever going to be able to forget it? The more he told himself to put it out of his mind, the more it refused to go. It found him when he was in the bathroom alone, or when he was daydreaming, or now... when he was asleep and dreaming, dammit.

Stretching, he licked his lips. Then he did hear his name for real, and pulled himself out of the bed. Padding out of the bedroom and out the hall, he saw Dean with his shorts at his feet, laying naked bent onto the dining room table, like he couldn't take another step. "Dean?!"

He rushed to Dean, putting his hand on his brother's forehead, thinking Dean had been so hot he'd tried to strip, and then had fallen on the table and couldn't get the energy to get up off the table. "Talk to me, Dean?" There was only a slight temperature, but unsure, Sam leaned in and touched his mouth to Dean's forehead. 

Dean thought he must have blacked out for a few moments or something because everything was different. His front was cold where he rested against the bare wood of the table instead of the warm skin of his brother's back. His whole body felt cold in fact which seemed... odd... considering how hot it had been these last several days. He definitely noticed he wasn't buried snugly inside the younger boy's tight warm body anymore.   
Sam... where? 

He thought he heard Sam's voice behind him. Calling his name. Dean tried to shift his weight, to push off of the table, but his body simply refused to move. He felt so fucking tired. So weak... and so damned cold... He thought he felt Sam's fingers brush gently over his forehead, followed not long after by his brother's sweet lips. Dean managed a small smile as he tried to drag open his eyes. It was almost more effort than it was worth, and even once he'd gotten them open they kept trying to close again. He was so fucking tired...

But Sam had asked him...

"Always... yours..." He managed in a small whisper, barely above a breath, but Sam didn't look pleased by his answer. He looked... scared. Why was Sam scared? Dean tried again to push himself up from the table, trying to figure out what had scared his brother, it was his job to protect Sam after all. But his arms simply wouldn't support his weight, and neither would his legs for that matter. He felt his knees buckling and gravity pulling him down and he simply didn't have the strength to fight it. 

"Dean!" Sam leaned in more, grabbing his brother's waist more tightly, suddenly not giving a shit that Dean was bare assed. Gritting his teeth, he summoned up all of his strength to keep Dean from hitting the ground. "Come on... Dean, just a couple steps," he said, slowly half carrying half dragging his brother toward the bedroom. He'd been fine... he'd been getting better, and that's why Sam had let himself fall asleep. If he'd known... Guilt washed over him, and worsened as he looked at Dean's pale features, watching him struggle to even give him the little assistance he was by putting one foot in front of the other.

It seemed like it took forever, but he got to the bed and dropped Dean down, unsuccessfully trying to break or slow down his fall. "You alright, Dean? ... Sorry! I'm sorry, Dean?" His brother's eyes were open and he was nodding, but Sam was as scared as he'd been when he'd called the ambulance yesterday. "I'm gonna make em fix you," he promised, getting Dean tucked into the bed, wondering if he'd been hot or why he was undressed like this. He didn't pull the blankets up, just the sheets.

Though Sam was gaining on him in height, his brother didn’t have the muscle mass that Dean had. It was probably a testament to Sam’s stubborn will that the younger boy managed to get him back to the bed before letting him drop. Dean blinked blearily up as Sam apologized to him. He wasn’t even sure why his brother was apologizing. Was he all right? Dean managed a small nod, even though they both knew it was a bald faced lie. He was about as far from all right as he could get without losing a limb or having a gaping wound in his chest, or something.  
At least some of the fog in Dean’s brain was beginning to clear. Not much, but a little. It was probably Sam’s fear that was helping with that. If Dean had been by himself, he probably would have simply let himself fall unconscious on the floor of the dining room and not gave a damned. But Sam needed him, and he would never leave his brother alone, so Dean forced himself to stay awake. Forced the rusty wheels in his head to start turning again, trying to figure out what had happened to him.

At first all he could think about as he stared at his brother, who'd now moved across the room and was furiously punching numbers into the phone, was how beautiful he'd looked, naked and crying out in pleasure, begging for him as Dean fucked him across the dining room table. Maybe Dean had just tired himself out? Pushed himself too hard making love to his brother? That’s why Sam looked so worried, even guilty? Because he thought it was his fault Dean was sick again?

Pissed that his dad didn't answer, and not thinking straight enough to compose a message, Sam hung up and came back to Dean. Leaning over Dean, he looked him in the eyes and pushed the short hair on his forehead back, trying to see if he had a temperature and finding none. "What were you doing up? Why didn't you wake me if you needed something? Dean... you're really sick, and I'm not exaggerating." He took a deep breath. "I called dad, but he's not picking up ... I don't know what to do. I'm thinking I need to call the ambulance again." 

Dean tried to give the younger boy a soft, reassuring smile when his brother came back over to him. Touching his hair, and Dean couldn’t help but close his eyes and sighing a little at the feeling of Sam touching him. It felt so good… it wasn’t Sam’s fault. He would be fine, soon he wouldn’t be sick anymore, and he could make love to Sam even better… But then his brother was asking him what he’d been doing in the dining room? Dean opened his eyes again, confusion and exhaustion swimming in them, fighting for control.  
Then the fog cleared a little bit more… of course Sam didn’t know what he’d been doing… because it wasn’t Sam. It looked like Sam, felt like Sam, Dean had wanted it to be Sam… but it wasn’t. It was… an incubus… and Dean had fallen under its spell again. That’s why he felt so bad now. So sick… the fucker had probably drained him nearly dry…

God damn it…

When Sam mentioned calling the ambulance again, Dean finally managed to move. Reaching out to grasp his brother’s wrist, to stop Sam from leaving and he shook his head, struggling to speak. “Don’t… don’t go…” He finally managed. He wasn’t going to be able to stay conscious for much longer. But he had to tell Sam. It wouldn’t come as long as Sam was watching him. That would break the illusion, or so he figured since it had never been in the room at the same time as Sam. “Don’t… let me… go…” 

"I'm not going anywhere Dean," Sam answered, even more worried by Dean asking him not to let him go. What did that mean? Like he was gonna die or something? No, no way, no way Dean was gonna slip into death like that. He looked down at his wrist, gauging the desperation in his brother's voice and close to being freaked out by it. "I won't move, I swear. Scoot over," he said, waiting until Dean released him.

He grabbed the remote, and brought the lap top over, then got on the bed. The fact that he had to help push Dean, that his brother was unable to muster up the energy to scoot over had him made him feel powerless. It was weird... no it was _wrong_ , everything was turned around. When he'd been growing up, it had always been Sam sick in bed with the flu or whatever, and Dean hovering over him. But that wasn't all. On those occasions that Dean was sick, he was an awful patient. While big brother might be a hoverer himself, Dean hated being hovered over like this. The fact that he wanted Sam to stay by him now was a bad, bad sign.   
"I shouldn't have slept. I'll do better, Dean," he promised, taking his brother's limp hand and giving it a squeeze.   
As his brother's eyes closed, Sam told himself he would call dad again later. This was much bigger than either of them thought, and covering up a car accident was not a good reason not to get his dad's help now when he was sure, despite what the doctors said, that his brother's life was in danger.

For a while, he stared at the blank TV., musing over everything that had happened. The thing that had started this whole snowball rolling, their argument and Dean hitting him before he left in a rage and got into an accident, all of that was mostly forgotten. The thing that Sam remembered best and that was at the forefront of his mind was how Dean had held him at the bus stop, and how he thought they had found their way back. Then there was that other thing, the one he tried not to remember, not to think about. The strange feelings Dean had stirred up in him when they were in bed and Dean had given him that feverish kiss. Just thinking about it made his mouth burn, and he knew damn well this was very, very wrong.

Checking on his brother, seeing he was completely asleep, Sam reached for the lap top. The last thing he wanted was for the TV. to wake Dean now that he was getting some rest. At first, he fooled around, not doing any real research. Then he remembered he'd found a good site where you could post medical questions and get a response. Well he'd posted one, but now he found that he hadn't bookmarked the site as a 'favorite place.' Frowning, he went to look at his 'history' of sites he'd visited and started seeing some searches that he hadn't made. Dean?

He started scrolling down and checking search results. What was his brother looking for? He kept going and a word kept coming up. _Incubus_. He'd heard of Succubus, but.... hmmm. He started his own searches, mostly thinking that maybe it was something Dean had hunted in the past. But once he started reading the mythos behind it, his heart started hammering into his chest. 

He looked over at his brother. Yes, he was exhausted and pale, like something was draining him of life. No, there was no real reason for him to be this sick. Sure he'd been in an accident but these symptoms had nothing to do with concussion or bodily injuries. Yeah, was getting nose bleeds, he was acting weird, and there were dips in his condition. Each time he was left alone, he was just a little worse. Was an incubus attacking his brother?

Shit... Sam wanted to reject that idea, it just made him all sort of uncomfortable. He researched some more, getting tenser and more uptight by the minute. All the hard ons, the lack of clothes when Dean had been on the dining room table, the feverish kissing in bed... Yeah, he was pretty sure it was an Incubus.

Dad... he needed dad now, only Dean could be dead by the time their dad made it back from wherever. Sam would have to handle this. Dean had given him a clue, told him not to leave him alone. Okay, he could do that. But he needed to find out how to kill an incubus. There was plenty of information on what an Incubus was, but the solutions were rarer or unbelievable. Now Dean's request that Sam not let him go made sense and scared the hell out of him. Hunching over, he concentrated harder, determine that he would not give his brother up to any _thing_. 

*

Dean had no idea how long he slept. But despite the fact that he was dead to the world, Dean's sleep was not peaceful.   
He wanted… he needed…

Hot skin beneath him. Flushed with arousal. Sweat glistening…

Dean moaned softly in his sleep. His own skin flushing with heat. Remembering how hot he'd been pressed against a lithe strong back. How slick their skin had been, moving together. The taste of salt and desire on his tongue when he licked wetly at his brother’s glistening flesh.

Soft moans gradually increasing in volume. Desperation. Little desperate pants and grunts every time they moved. Some sounds of pain, little moans of discomfort, understandable when it was the first time. But the sweet whines and moans of pleasure, his name whispered in such need over and over, it more than made up for any discomfort.

He wanted to hear his brother make those sounds again. He wanted it to be all he heard. He wanted to make Sam scream his name in ecstasy as he took him again and again. Taking, and giving, giving both of them what they wanted.

So fucking tight. The velvety slick channel around his cock, inner muscles practically strangling his dick, so damned reluctant to loosen for him, to open for his invasion, but finally relenting. Relaxing. Allowing him into the forbidden zone. Flesh of his flesh. Blood of his blood. They were meant to fit together like this. It was perfect. He angled his hips just right as he fucked into Sam hard, bringing forth such sweet sounds of pleasure when his dick rubbed over the younger boy's prostate over and over. The first to ever touch his brother like this. The only… Sam was his…

He wanted that again. needed that again. To feel Sam beneath him. To feel himself inside his brother. To fuck his brother. To taste his lips. To taste his skin. To taste his cock. His come. To fill the younger boy up with his seed until it dripped out of his perfect little ass. He needed it. He ached for it. It hurt so much. 

"Sammy…" Dean moaned in near agony, forcing his eyes open. He couldn't think beyond the cloud of lust and pain obscuring his thoughts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing except trying to find what he wanted. What he needed. Sam… Why wasn't Sam giving him what he needed?


	6. Chapter 6

Stunned by his discovery and with all of his focus on trying to find a solution, the soft sounds from Dean only drew a glance from Sam. A quick look just to make sure Dean was looked okay, then he was back to pounding his fingers across the keyboard, desperately searching for any bit of information that could help. He wasn't gonna let his brother's life be drained away, no fucking way. He needed his older brother, always had, always would. All his life, Dean had taken care of him, been at the center of everything, the only stable thing in his life. If he had a problem, Dean would solve it, even if he flicked him off first or made him jump through hoops, that's what brothers were for. That's what family was about, Dean taught him that, if not with words, with actions. Sure, they didn't have an ideal family, but he never doubted his brother's love.

His heart constricted. Yeah, there were times when he'd wondered what was going through Dean's mind. He'd never thought it was hate, not _really_ , but Dean had definitely been pushing him away for quite a while, maybe even more than a year. Having no idea what he could have done to earn that, to suddenly have Dean walking away from him, or shove him off, or cut him off when he tried to talk or touch him, Sam put it down to his brother being tired of taking care of him. That was something he could understand, but he'd never though hate... he'd always known underlying any emotion Dean showed him, there was love.

Dean probably loved him more than dad. They'd been the center of each others' worlds, but while Sam had had to depend on Dean, Dean had given his time, his efforts, himself. Part of it might have been because he'd 'had to,' but Sam had to think a lot of it was because he wanted to. 

Sam clicked the mouse button, jumping into the next page. More about Incubi, how they not only drained sexual and emotional energy, but also stimulated it. How they lured their victims, became more and more irresistible to them. How they chose to appear in a form that would most appeal to the victims... the victim's deepest desire, be it a real person, or an 'ideal' they had in their mind. "But how do you kill it... how?" he muttered when Dean started to thrash around next to him.

Putting the lap top aside, Sam leaned over his brother who was moaning and saying his name. Sam's breath hitched, his pulse started to race as he was reminded of the kisses Dean had given him in bed. This is what Dean had sounded like, and he'd been flushed just like this. No, he needed to stop thinking about that, and just think on how he could help Dean. Sliding his palm over the warm flesh of Dean's cheek, he pushed his hand under Dean's head, lifting him slightly. "Right here, Dean. What do you need?" he asked, noticing how unfocused his brother's eyes were. He leaned closer, to hear him. "Dean?"

The light tender caress to his cheek practically burned, and Dean moaned again. Wanting more, needing more, he needed Sam. So much… Dean turned his face into his brother’s palm out of instinct, seeking more, more of his brother’s touch. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Didn’t Sam understand that? He needed more…

Somehow, with great difficulty, he managed to almost focus on Sam’s face hovering over his. Sam… Sammy… his sweet innocent little brother… Sam looked so concerned. Worried… about him… afraid… 

“Sammy…” Dean whispered. He wanted to reassure his brother, but all he could manage was the younger boy’s name. He wanted to tell Sam there wasn’t any reason to be afraid. It was just them. Just like it should be. 

He lifted his hand, even though it felt weighed down by lead, and placed it on his brother’s cheek. Caressing Sam’s face tenderly. The way Sam had caressed him. His fingers sliding back through the soft silky strands of his brother’s hair. Cupping the back of his neck. God, he felt like he was burning, and that light touch was soothing water. 

“Need you…” Dean practically growled in need. Snaking his other arm around his brother’s waist and pulling Sam down on top of him. Moaning at the weight of the younger boy’s body covering his own, too much separating them of course, but he would fix that soon. With a moan he pulled on the back of his brother’s neck and rose up to kiss Sam hard, devouring his brother’s mouth without restraint. 

"Need wha--” One moment Sam was trying to ask Dean what he wanted, the he found himself on top of Dean. His brother’s groan had Sam worrying that he’d hurt Dean, he wasn’t a small kid. Just as he started to try to pull his weight off, Dean moved again, this time cupping his neck, pulling him down and welding their mouths together. The breath was knocked out of Sam at first. Surprised, he did nothing... said nothing as Dean pushed his tongue inside his mouth. Then it was just like that other time when Dean had been feverish and had kissed him. Strong, unfamiliar sensations traveled through Sam’s body.

Dean moaned in pleasure into his little brother’s sweet mouth as their tongues tangled together. The younger boy unresponsive at first, confused him, but he finally felt those gentle tentative touches and Dean groaned louder in encouragement and pleasure. Sam kissed him like his brother had never kissed anyone before, all enthusiasm and little skill, and it was really turning him on. When Sam pretended to be coy like this… it was so sweet and hot at the same time… Dean wasted no time “showing him what to do”, licking inside of his brother’s mouth, tracing his gums and teeth, stroking and sucking on his tongue. His fingers petting and stroking through Sam’s hair and down his back, rocking his hips up to meet Sam’s when his little brother began pushing down against him. Letting Sam feel how hard he was making him, feeling Sam growing hard in return, perfect…

“De... don’t...” The way his brother tangled their tongues together and worked his mouth back and forth in a rhythm had Sam’s head swimming, his entire body tense and paying attention. It took him a minute to realize the sound he’d heard had come from him, much like the sounds he made when he jacked off, only louder. Dean was getting him hard, making him want to kiss back, to move against him. Sam tentatively moved his tongue, sweeping it along Dean’s and suddenly he was swept up in a new wave of heat. Groaning, he kissed Dean, learning the motions of tongue and mouth. It was only when he involuntarily ground his hips down that guilt and shame washed through him. Dean wasn’t even really conscious and here he was taking advantage of it... what the hell?

Almost panicked, he ripped himself out of Dean’s arms. “Stop... Dean, you’re dreaming,” he said, pushing Dean’s arms back down, putting them under the sheets. “Sleep alright, I’m gonna stop this, I swear, I’ll help you,” he promised. Scooting away, he worked again on the lap top, but his mouth burned, and his body felt strange, like there was unfinished business. His heart hurt, because he knew, what he’d just experienced would never happen again, and that nothing could compare... nothing.

Sam pushed him away? Sam was telling him… to stop? Sleep? No, he didn’t need sleep. He needed Sam. The absence of the younger boy in his arms was like a cold black void, and he needed his brother. He needed Sam warm and moaning beneath him in pleasure. He needed it. “Sammy, please…” Dean moaned, forcing his arms underneath him, pushing himself up even though his body practically refused to move. The burning need inside of him, knowing that only Sam could ease it, was enough of an incentive to make him try. 

He managed to follow Sam, scooting over the couple of feet that put his brother back in his reach, and he threw his arms around the younger boy. Burying his face into Sam’s neck, he mouthed and sucked on the soft skin, while his hands roamed wherever they could reach. Sliding over Sam’s chest and back, and finally worming their way underneath his brother’s shirt to caress warm perfect skin. “Need you Sammy, please…” Dean begged again, licking up Sam’s neck to nibble on the skin just beneath his ear. One of his hands started working its way under the waistband of his brother’s boxers. 

Dean moved so damned quick again, Sam didn’t see it coming. He barely saved the lap top from hitting the floor right before he was wrapped up in Dean. Dean was clinging to him, surrounding him. It was way too hot and humid to be touching, but the way Dean touched him, he wasn’t thinking of that kind of heat, but a whole nuther type. He felt Dean’s mouth on his throat, the wetness from his tongue, and then Dean was sucking on his skin. Goose bumps rose on his flesh, his stomach clenching in wonder as Dean’s hand skimmed over his abs. “Dean... can’t...” Despite his words, he just sat there, his heart beating hard against his chest as he tried to analyze all the sensations assaulting his senses. He’d never realized how good Dean smelled, how thick his voice could get, or that when he spoke at a particular octave, it was as if it made his entire body hum.

He let out a heated breath, wondering if this is what all the girls felt when Dean took them out. No wonder they fell all over him. His mouth was magic, his touch... it just made Sam want to stay there, like this, made him want to ask for another kiss. Want it so bad even though he knew it was wrong. The way was begging him, telling him he ‘needed’ him. The words, the way he said them had Sam more hot and bothered than he’d ever been in his life. “No... Don’t say that,” he whispered breathlessly, knowing he’d think about it for days, or weeks, knowing he’d jack off to it, even if he shouldn’t. “Dean you shouldn't...” 

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck your cock. I’ll lick you open. I’ll fuck you. You can fuck me. Anything…” Dean pleaded, rubbing his mouth back and forth, nuzzling Sam's throat, desperate to get him to agree. 

Sam had just gathered the will to push Dean away again, when Dean’s hand wrapped around his dick as his brother made dirty filthy suggestions, things Sam had never thought about before, not really, not with a guy. Images of Dean’s mouth on his dick flashed through his mind, and being fucked... he meant in the... Dean meant. Sam's heart tumbled, and he pushed Dean away hard. He didn’t know if it was fear, though it should be disgust, it should be. “No Dean, stop this... it’s not you.”

Dean wasn’t prepared when Sam shoved him away. It felt like a knife in his heart. Why was Sam shoving him away? Why wasn’t his brother giving him what he needed? He said that he would do anything Sam wanted. Anything… and instead Sam was pushing him away. “Sam, please… Please!” Dean begged, trying to touch Sam again. Trying to make Sam feel good, trying to ease the burning need inside of him. It hurt so much. He needed Sam so much. “I need you, Sammy please…”

But Sam pushed him away. Again. And this time his brother got off the bed and left the room. Sam was leaving him. Like he’d promised not to… he’d promised…

“Sammy!” He cried out after the younger boy, trying to get up off the bed, follow Sam, but he could barely move. His efforts only making him almost fall out of the bed, and he sobbed in agony. “Need you… please, Sammy, please…”

It took everything Sam had to fend Dean off even as he was hampered by his own body's reaction. Walking out that door as he listed to his brother _beg_... that broke Sam’s heart. What the hell had this incubus done to his brother?

A few minutes later, Sam returned, walking around to the other side of the bed. The minute Dean rolled closer as he'd known he would, Sam cuffed him, just one hand, to the handle of the drawer of the nightstand. “Dean, calm down, Dean!” He peeled himself away from his brother’s other hand. “It's the INCUBUS that’s doing this, do you know how to fight it? DEAN, help me! Do you know what I need to do? HELP ME.”

By the time Sam returned, Dean felt close to tears as he reached out to the younger boy, but his brother gave the bed a wide berth and Dean had to try to struggle weakly to the other side. Reaching out to Sam again, only to find himself suddenly restrained, and he looked down at his cuffed wrist as though it didn’t belong to him. Dean turned wide wounded eyes back to his brother. He didn’t understand what Sam was asking him. He couldn’t think beyond simply needing Sam. 

“I don’t know…” He whispered, his eyes pleading, before another wave of pain swept through him and he curled in on himself with a moan. His skin felt like it was on fire. His cock was so hard it could pound nails, and it hurt so fucking much. He’d never felt a pain like this before, he was shaking with it. His head felt like it was being split in two. He wasn’t surprised at all when he felt the coppery wetness dripping from his nose. “Hurts… oh fuck… Sammy it hurts…” 

Struggling with Dean, pushing him away, then listening to him plead, and beg... it was the hardest thing Sam had every done. He could see Dean didn’t understand him, that Dean was somewhere else inside his head. 

“Please, please tell me how to make it better,” Sam pleaded, his heart constricting. Then Dean was moaning, in pain, and it wasn’t funny, wasn’t embarrassing, it just plain had Sam in a panic, seeing Dean bleeding again and telling him it hurt. He looked at the lap top that had slid to the floor, then at his brother, shaking like a leaf. He knew he had to find a cure, but how could he leave Dean to this? How the fuck was he supposed to do that.

His gaze dropped to Dean’s groin and he just knew that whatever Dean was feeling, it wasn’t just blue balls, it was extreme. He started to shake like a leaf too, just looking down, frozen... undecided. This wasn’t what Dean needed, this wasn’t how Dean would react if their positions were in reverse. Dean would do something, he’d save him, help him.

Sam dropped down onto the bed, rolling Dean so he was flat on his back. He crawled over Dean, kissed him and ignored the taste of blood. “I’m right here, Dean. Kiss you alright? This what you need?” He felt Dean buck under him, felt his free hand move to his back. Tentatively, he moved against Dean, so afraid... so unsure about what he was doing, but so damned scared not to do anything. “Don’t hurt Dean, I’m right here... I’m right here.” Tears started to stream from his eyes. “Tell me what I have to do to beat this thing, please tell me... God Dean, I need help, please tell me.”

Dean was so close to simply ripping off his own skin, just to make the burning stop, when Sam was finally there. His brother’s touch making him whimper as the younger boy shoved him onto his back. Sam’s touch was like a balm and he practically sobbed into his brother’s mouth when the younger boy’s lips covered his own. He kissed Sam back desperately. His free arm slid around the younger boy’s slim waist to clutch his brother tighter to him, bucking up against Sam. Hating that there were so many layers of cloth separating their bodies, but he would take whatever he could get at this point. A low agonizing groan was ripped from his throat when Sam finally began to move against him. 

Dean honestly wasn’t sure how he was able to think beyond the painful need gripping him, but his brother’s voice shaking with fear reached him at a soul deep level. He forced his eyes open and seeing the younger boy’s tear streaked face was like a punch to the gut. 

Sam needed him. Needed him to tell him what to do, but Dean felt just as lost as his little brother. Was this enough? He didn’t know. The fact that he could think at all, maybe that meant it was helping, a little. But it wasn’t enough. “Not enough…” He groaned, embarrassment forgotten, shame forgotten, as all he could think about was easing the unbearable need inside of him.

His hand slid down Sam’s back, tugging at the hem of his shirt and hiking it up to his armpits. The touch of Sam’s bare skin against his had him moaning again, but this time not in pain. Somehow he managed to free himself from his shorts even though he couldn’t stop bucking and rocking his hips up against his brother. Rubbing his aching dick against the bare skin of Sam’s thigh had him gasping and shuddering, his fingers clutching at Sam’s ass as pleasure began to replace the fiery pain burning through his veins. 

“It’s good… Sammy… better…” He panted, kissing Sam’s cheek. Licking away his little brother’s tears back to the younger boy’s lips. His breath hitching as he brushed his lips over his brother’s mouth. “I’m sorry… so sorry, Sam…” 

Sam gasped as Dean dragged his shirt up his body, almost got it off him. Deciding he could lose it, Sam tugged it the rest of the way off. He told himself he could handle this, would handle it, but when he looked down, Dean had somehow gotten his shorts off and was practically naked under him. Heat stained Sam's cheeks. Before he could say a thing, Dean had grabbed him by the ass and was pulling him down as he thrust up against him. His mind and body were suddenly focused on the feel of Dean's naked cock rubbing against him, grinding into his thigh. His breaths started coming a lot faster, he felt Dean's mouth over his face, over his own mouth, light as a feather, apologies tumbling from his brother's lips.

"No, it's okay Dean. Want to help, just don't... not under my clo... leave them on," he whispered against Dean's ear, as he started to move a little harder against his brother. At first it was just about helping Dean, but very quickly Sam realized that need was building inside him, tension coiling low in his own belly. "Dean... God... Dean..." his breaths puffed out between his lips.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded at his brother’s instructions. If Sam didn’t want Dean to touch him under his shorts, he wouldn’t. He would do whatever Sam wanted. He would gladly take whatever his brother offered him. 

Afraid of his own feelings, his own reactions, Sam buried his face in Dean's throat and tried to hide from them. He was breathing hard, so loud, and so fucking embarrassed. "Still good, Dean... helping?" he asked, terrified, so afraid he might be doing this for himself, might be taking advantage. "Want you to get better, please Dean, get better." 

Dean threw his head back and groaned, bucking up beneath the younger boy’s body and probably would have unseated Sam if he wasn’t also clinging to his brother so tightly. Just feeling Sam, so hard, digging into his stomach, even with the thin layer of cloth separating them, was heaven. “Yeah… its good… helping…” Dean whispered in reply. He was so close already. He knew when he came the pain would go away. Somehow he just knew it. He just… had to get there… He needed Sam to get him there.

Sam didn't know how it happened, but he slanted his mouth over Dean's and just... just opened for his brother.

Dean moaned into his brother’s mouth and he thrust his tongue past the younger boy’s teeth, exploring every inch he could. Tugging uselessly at the cuffs restraining him, frustrated he couldn’t hold Sam even tighter to him, couldn’t touch his brother with both hands, but this was enough. Right now this was enough. 

As they kissed, Sam could hear and feel Dean pull against the cuffs, heard his frustrated attempts to free himself. "Sorry Dean, had to tie ...." He lifted his head up, felt his brother's iron grip as if Dean was afraid he'd roll off. He bit his lower lip as his cock, trapped between their bodies, got impossibly harder. "Anh... oh God... Dean... Dean I..." Just that quick, he came in his shorts, tears blurring his eyes as shame washed over him, as nothing could stop him from feeling the waves of pleasure that he'd only imagined in the privacy of the bathroom.

When Sam broke their kiss, Dean was left panting, trembling, looking up at the younger boy as though he was everything. His heart and soul and more. Watching Sam come undone as though it was the first time, feeling the hot wetness spreading through Sam’s shorts as his brother came, feeling the younger boy trembling against him, pushed Dean over the edge as well. He bucked beneath Sam so hard he wasn’t sure how he didn’t throw his brother off of him, practically screaming Sam’s name as he came. Shuddering so hard beneath the younger boy, he felt like he was having a seizure.

Hearing his brother scream, Sam's heart clenched at first in fear for Dean, then... then something else ... a realization that it wasn't pain, it was that same need he'd been gripped with seconds ago.

“Sam… oh god… Sammy…” Dean moaned like he was in agony, and a part of him was, until the last shudder racked his body and he collapsed spent and completely boneless beneath the younger boy. Gasping and wheezing and feeling completely drained in mind and body.

Sam kept thrusting lightly until Dean stopped moving, stopped crying out, like his pain was gone... like he was alright again. "D... Dean, it's okay now..." he breathed against his brother's ear, then lifted his head. His hands on Dean's shoulders were trembling, his legs still felt weak. "Gonna be okay," he nodded, answering for his brother. He kissed Dean's cheek, then felt himself flush, and stammered an apology, which after all that just happened was really, really stupid. He crawled off Dean and returned with the bowl of water that was still in the room from when Dean had needed cold compresses for his fever. 

Sam’s gentle touches and the soft whispers next to his ear were comforting and only made Dean relax more. His thoughts felt like they were swimming through thick syrup in his head. Moving as slow as molasses in the winter, but he didn’t care. He only cared that the pain was gone, the need was gone, sated… for now. It was going to be ok. Ok… he clung to that thought, those promises. It was going to be ok… When he felt Sam moving away, Dean moaned softly in complaint and forced his eyes open. He didn’t want Sam to leave him. He still needed Sam… but his brother didn’t go far. Just for water and a wash cloth. Dean offered the younger boy a small shaky smile when his brother started to wipe the sweat off his face and chest. It felt good, so good…

He let his eyes slide closed again, exhausted, as Sam worked. However when he felt the rag pressed into his hand with a whispered instruction to take care of his privates, and Sam left again, Dean forced them open again with a sound of complaint. Why was Sam always leaving him? He didn’t like it when Sam… disappeared… after they were together. He wanted Sam to always stay with him. He wanted… Dean frowned up at the ceiling in confusion. Something wasn’t right… Something… but he didn’t know what.

He and Sam, it was perfect. It was what he always wanted… but it shouldn’t be. Sam was his brother. His little brother, for God's sake! It was bad enough that he wanted Sam so badly that an incubus had been able to use the younger boy’s form to… but it wasn’t… it was Sam, really Sam… oh dear God…

Dean paled to a shade of white that rivaled the sheets he was laying on. Horror at what he’d done and guilt churned his stomach so badly he thought he might be sick. Might be? He was sick. A sick fucking bastard that had just molested his little brother… and Sam had let him… oh God… He should have just let that fucking incubus kill him, suck him dry, he deserved that and worse, so much worse.

Sam was back in three minutes, having showered and changed into new shorts and a tee. A little unsurely, he got on the bed next to his brother and picked up the lap top. "You know, I was gonna ask for kissing advice... guess I got it, now." He cleared his throat, not looking at Dean, but smiling just a little as he recalled the heat that flooded his system at every touch of Dean's tongue. "We're going to have to talk about this," he nodded again. "After we get rid of your... your problem. Any ideas, Dean?" 

Dean couldn’t look at his brother. He simply couldn’t. Sam’s attempt at a joke to lighten the mood settled like a frozen piece of lead in his gut. His throat felt so tight with shame he could barely breathe. Talk… What the hell was there to talk about? Dean was a sick fucking bastard that deserved to be arrested, or castrated, dead, or all of the above.

Sam stared at the screen for a while, then looked over at Dean. "Are you mad because of the cuffs?" He licked his lips and stared at the silent figure next to him, very aware that Dean wasn't looking at him... was avoiding him to be precise. He hung his head. "Are you mad because I.... Dean I didn't know what to do. You were in pain, I thought you were gonna have a coronary." He thought back on what had happened. Yeah, okay he'd liked the kissing and some of the other stuff, and probably he shouldn't... but he hadn't initiated it because of that. Dean had seriously been in danger of ... of going into a fit or something. At first he'd kept away from him, that's why he'd gotten the cuffs but it had been obvious to him that Dean was in actual pain. No, he'd had no other choice, he really hadn't.

Dean’s gaze flickered briefly over to his bound wrist. Honestly? He’d almost forgotten he was restrained. Looking at the cuffs now, Dean felt his stomach twist just a bit more, if that was even possible. Sam had to restrain him… because he hadn’t stopped. Sam had tried to get him to stop, but he simply wouldn’t. He kept reaching out for Sam. Kept trying to touch him… kiss him… and Sam had to restrain him. Not that it had mattered in the end, because he had still… and Sam had let him… _Mad._ There was that word again. How could his brother even ask that? How could Sam possibly think that Dean was mad at him. Dean closed his eyes, feeling so damned close to sobbing his eyes out like a pathetic little girl. How the hell could he even think to feel sorry for himself, after what he’d done to Sam? 

Tear sprang into Sam's eyes. "Don't be mad at me for this Dean, just don't. I didn't know what else to do, and now you won't help me?" His brother was as still as a statue and giving him no reactions, and that pissed him off a little. Dragging his gaze away, he started working on the lap top and going back to the historical searches. Just then, it clicked that the succubus and incubus trails weren't old, they were new. Dean... Dean had been on the lap top at the hospital, he'd known! Turning sideways to look at him, he leaned down. "You knew... you knew what this was, an incubus, but you didn't tell me. Dean, do you know how I can stop it? Dean!" He shook his shoulder, then pulled away. Staring at the screen, he muttered, "I'm gonna call dad again. He's gotta know something." 

Dean wanted to say something. He knew he should say something. But he couldn’t. Then Sam was switching gears, just like that, his ever quick mind jumping to conclusions that were normally correct. Accusing him… not that Dean could deny it. Well, he could, but the lie would fall pathetically obvious from his lips.

Sam was shaking him. Asking him… did he know how to stop it? No, if he’d known how to stop it he would have done it before he’d raped his little brother…

The mention of their father finally broke Dean from his paralysis and his hand shot out to grasp Sam’s wrist without thinking. Then realizing what he’d done, he released his brother just as quickly. Oh god, how could he even think of touching Sam in any way right now? “Don’t… please…” Dean finally managed to choke out, begging Sam unashamedly. Of course, once his eyes met his brother’s the tears he’d been fighting against all this time spilled down his cheeks, his voice shaking and broken as his shame and guilt overwhelmed him completely. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Startled, Sam looked at his wrist. Dean’s grip was surprisingly strong, though he quickly let him go. Lifting his eyes in question, he licked his lips. “Dad? But Dean...” One Dean started to cry and apologize, Sam's gut clenched. “No, no Dean, it’s alright,” he said, leaning over him, using the heel of his hand to gently wipe Dean’s tears. “Not your fault. We’re gonna get this thing, okay? You and me, and then everything... everything is gonna be fine.”

The look, the doubt in Dean’s eyes scared him. “Don’t you give up on us, you promised,” he reminded his brother. “Out there, at that bus stop, you promised me.” Again, he licked his lips. “This... this thing that happened, it’s fine Dean. I’m not traumatized... I’m not.” 

Sam realized that’s what his brother was worrying about, even though he knew it went deeper. He’d realized already it meant that before the incubus, Dean had seen him a certain way, which made everything that had happened in the last year make sense. The way Dean pushed him away a lot, even the way he’d gotten physical, hitting him that night before his accident. “But you’re gonna have to get better before we can talk about it, and stop... don’t feel bad. I might have... you know, not minded some of it.” His color rose, and he had a bit of a smile. “Now help me.” 

This wasn’t right. None of it was right. Forget the fact that he’d just raped his underage little brother, Sam shouldn’t be the one doing this. He should be the one taking care of Sam. He should be the one making sure his brother was ok. He should be the one comforting the younger boy, wiping away his tears… instead Dean was the one falling apart and Sammy was staring down at him looking lost and scared as he tried to keep his big brother together. 

All right. Fine. He wanted to believe that was true. He wanted to believe, so very badly, that it was going to be all right… once this was all over… as though this was just another hunt. But it wasn’t. It would never be all right again, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Nothing would ever erase what he’d done to Sam. Nothing would ever make Sam forget. Nothing would ever make him forget… And Sam's reminder of his promise? Dean really didn’t have it in him right now to explain to Sam that this was a little fucking different than him hitting Sam… and everything else that had happened. Sam knew now. He knew what a twisted fuck his big brother really was… But Sam wasn’t looking at him with disgust, or fear, or hate. Just concern, reassurance… Sam reassuring him that he hadn’t “traumatized” his brother. Telling him… he might not have… minded?

Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sob… Was Sam just trying to make him feel better or something? He couldn’t possibly mean it. They both couldn’t possibly be that fucked up.

“I don’t know how to kill it, Sam.” He finally managed in a hoarse whisper. 

“Okay.” Sam still wasn’t sure he shouldn’t be calling dad, at least to just find out how to deal with an incubus. Or maybe even Bobby, he could tell the hunter that Dean needed the information or something. Nah, Bobby was as hard to bullshit as their dad. 

Worrying his lip, he went back to researching, very aware his brother was watching him, might even want to talk, but they needed this thing dead first. He started to talk out loud as he found stuff out, state his own ideas. A smile curved his lips whenever Dean managed to put in his two cents and poked a hole in his theories. He knew thinking straight was taking a toll out of Dean, could see how tired his brother was, how drained of energy. 

Another hour went by before Sam sat up straight. “Doesn’t dad have this?” He read the name of a text that was referenced as an authority on succubi. There was much less available on Incubi, and this was worth a shot, he figured. Taking a last glance at his sleeping brother, Sam put the lap top away and got out of bed. He went into his dad’s closet, looked around at one of the shelves inside it where he kept some sources. Nothing. “I’m gonna go to the garage, look in the storage cabinet,” he said, though his brother was still out cold.

Taking one last look at Dean, Sam headed out, stepping barefooted onto the sun heated porch and into the dying sunlight. Twilight hadn’t really brought much relief from the heat. Inside the garage, it was sweltering. Breathing the hot air, he started to rifle through the old cupboard, finding the false back and taking it out. 

* * * 

HE was furious. Sam... the real Sam had taken HIS place, offered Dean comfort, given him sex. HE wanted, needed Dean to be ravenous, needed Dean to be so hungry that he'd give everything, his life energy, every last drop of it, in one final sex act that would burn Dean out in a blaze of lust and hurt and guilt.

To make sure of it, HE pulled the sheets down off Dean’s body and started touching him everywhere, caressing lightly, infusing him with need, hot and desperate desire.

As the feelings spread, he stepped back from the bed and took Sam’s form, waiting for Dean to wake.

* 

Dean was damned tired. He didn't think he had been so worn out since he’d gotten sick with the stomach flu a few years back and spent most of his time either puking or sleeping. He’d felt like hell then, but he felt even worse now. But that’s what happened when he let an incubus suck on him like a god damned juice box because he couldn’t keep his hands off of his baby brother…  
Fuck, he was pathetic…

Dean had tried to help Sam as much as he could, because despite the fact that he felt he deserved all of this… what the incubus was doing to him… because of his sick need for his brother, he didn’t want to die. He knew that things would never be the same way they were before between him and Sam. At least the younger boy was being kind enough not to throw it back in his teeth when he was barely hanging on the edge by his fingertips. But Sammy was like that, too damned nice for his own good sometimes.

Once it was all over though… he knew he would have to leave. There wasn’t really any other outcome. He didn’t want Sam to have to look at him and always wonder if his disgusting older brother was going to make a move on him or something. He wouldn’t put Sam through that. 

God, what the hell was he going to tell Dad? He supposed anything would do, as long as it wasn’t the truth…

At some point Dean simply couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and he’d drifted off to sleep to the sound of Sam muttering to himself, trying to puzzle things out, and the clicking keys of the laptop. It was so normal it was almost comforting.

Unfortunately, comfort was the last thing that Dean awoke in. His skin felt like it was so hot he was burning. Need pumping through his veins like boiling acid, pooling in his groin. His dick so red and hard, leaking, it was painful. Dean moaned in agony as his eyes fluttered open. He could barely focus. He was panting and shaking. Sweat forming on his brow and chest. Oh god, it was worse than before, when he had… no… he couldn’t do that to Sam again… he couldn’t…

But Sam was standing there at the foot of the bed. Looking beautiful and perfect and Dean couldn’t not try to reach out to him. Just to touch him… needing to touch him… His wrist still handcuffed to the bedside table brought him up short and Dean moaned in agony. “Sammy… oh God… I need…” 

_Sam_ looked serious. Wounded. HE searched Dean's face, then came to sit on the bed, his bare thighs brushing against Dean's feet. "When I slept with you, when I let you fuck me, when I asked you to put your mouth over my dick... I thought you loved me, Dean. I mean I really thought I was something more than one of your sluts, you know? If you'd told me, explained it to me, I'd never have..."  
Tears sparkled in _Sam's_ eyes. HE drew his knees up onto the bed, turning bodily toward Dean, then opening his thighs, sitting cross-legged, one knee resting over Dean's leg. "You cheated on me, that's just not right." His throat convulsed. "How can it be fair, that I'm sitting here, just... just wanting you, even when you did that to me. Explain to me why I have this incredible urge to kiss you... to want to feel your tongue inside my mouth, moving in and out... just like... you know," HE nodded toward the door, indicating the other room where they'd fucked for real. "It was so hot Dean, made me feel so damned good."

HE rubbed the heels of his hands up and down his thighs, his stomach muscles clenching and unclenching as HE spoke. "Since then, all I can think about is how your tongue felt on my dick, in my ass. I should feel dirty, but I don't... I just want it, want it so bad. Every time I think about it... look..." HE pulled the material of his boxers tight against his leg to show Dean the outline of his thick hard shaft "I want you touching me so bad, I like your hands on me, like the sounds you make. I like it when you get rough... and then gentle. Like it when you’re on top of me Dean, and when I feel how hard you are. It makes me feel special. But I'm not, am I?" HE cocked is head. "You did it with him," HE said, a sob breaking out of him. "You gave up fucking me for... for that pale imitation?" 

Dean could barely understand Sam’s words through the haze of lust clouding all of his thoughts, though they still hit him like direct punches to the gut. Twisting him up inside even more than the burning need running through his veins like wildfire. Need for his brother. 

But Sam thought he… 

No, he didn’t think of Sam like that. Sam meant everything to him! He did love Sam! So damned much… too damned much…

“Sammy…” Dean whimpered his brother’s name. Not understanding. Cheated? But he hadn’t…

Dean groaned and his hard aching dick dribbled another stream of come along his stomach when Sam mentioned what they’d done last night. In the kitchen. How he’d licked the younger boy open and then fucked him right across the kitchen table…

No… that wasn’t right, that hadn’t been Sam… it… was the incubus… wasn’t it? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. He was so damned confused he didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. He wanted Sam even though he knew he was sick for it. He loved Sam even though he knew he shouldn’t. He wanted to make love to Sam… had made love to Sam… and he wanted to again. Needed to again. Oh God, he needed…

He couldn’t help but watch as Sam’s hands traveled along the younger boy’s skin even though his brother’s pained words pushed the knife deeper into his heart and twisted it. “You are special, Sammy. I love you… I do… so damned much it hurts, baby brother. I’m sorry… I was confused… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you, never… Love you…”

 _Sam_ watched him intently, every single movement of his hands and body geared to draw Dean's attention to his body, to his tongue as he slowly licked his mouth, to his long legs as his hands continued to fidget and slide over them. Even the way HE turned his head, swallowed, made sure Dean was looking at his throat... felt his need, his hunger rising, whipped it up with everything HE had. HE wanted Dean so frenzied that the boy wouldn't know what the hell was happening, even as the last drops of his life essence were sucked out of him.

The aroma of his need, of his emotional confusion, his heartache... his guilt, it was so intoxicating that HE wanted to attack him right here, right now. So handsome, tied up and writhing with absolute need, a sheen of sweat covering him, his eyes unfocused and pleading... it couldn't be more perfect. 

Moving onto his hands and knees, HE crawled forward, straddling Dean's knees, licking his lips as HE felt the heat rising from Dean's body. "I want you. Want you so bad Dean. Want you to kiss me, want to hear you say I'm yours, that you don't want anyone else... that it's me you need to kiss, to fuck, it's me you want to hold... me you dream about." Lowering himself but not touching Dean at all, moving above him, in subtle sex motions, he let his mouth drop at the corners. "I saw you.... saw you let him get on top of you, heard you with him. I thought you wanted me. I won't share you... I'd rather take my stuff and leave. Never see you again, never feel you inside me, never hear you yell my name. You getting this Dean? I won't share you."

Dean was burning up from the inside out. That’s what it felt like. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if Sam told him he was dying. He’d never felt lust or need like this. Had never wanted to feel it like this. This was too much. It was painful and he just wanted that pain to end. It didn’t matter how, he just wanted it to end... He whimpered when the younger boy finally moved. Closer to him. Hovering over him so close he could feel the heat of his brother’s body, and yet, not touching him. Dean groaned in pain at the torture. He just wanted to touch Sam. He wanted to grab the younger boy, pull him down, arch against him and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Instead he was frozen. Frozen by the pain even though he was shaking with it. Frozen by the look in Sam’s eyes. 

The possession.

“I want you. I need you.” Dean barely managed to whisper. Choking a little when Sam said he would leave... oh god... he couldn’t bear that thought. He was certain he would die if Sam left him. He’d just burn to ash right where he was laying. “Please... don’t leave... want you...” Dean begged unashamedly, tears in his eyes. “Need you... only you... I’m yours...”

Heat rose inside _Sam_ at Dean's total capitulation. The boy was his, and they were going to fuck to the death... Dean's. HE could already feel Dean burning up, it was going to be beautiful. Poetic. It had been a long long time since he'd had anyone with the capacity for this much lust and pain and guilt and love all rolled into one. "Alright then," _Sam_ whispered, licking his lips and crawling forward a little more so he was directly over Dean. "Take my shorts off Dean. Have me," HE whispered sweetly, touching his mouth lightly against Dean's feverish skin as HE slid it over Dean's cheek to his mouth. "You can have me Dean, however you want. Just have me."

*

Thank God for the Latin to English dictionary. Sweat dripped down Sam's forehead as he poured over the book he'd finally found that had a chapter addressing succubi. Nothing specifically on how to deal with an Incubus, but he had to believe they were similar enough that this would work. Maybe he should have been researching Succubi earlier, dammit. His finger swept down the page of the dictionary... _Forsake, renounce, relinquish..._

Alright... they could do this. First the fucking creature had to be lured back. Sam reached for the text one more time, wanting to see if there was anything else... anything. 

When he had everything, he left the sweltering heat of the garage and went back into the house, making a pit stop in the kitchen.

Balancing a couple books and a glass of water for Dean, Sam walked inside their dad's room. The room was both hot and cold at the same time, and he just knew from the way Dean was moving, looking like he was touching someone... that that Incubus was here with them. Everything in his hands slipped to the ground, the glass shattering and skittering across the floor. Yet despite the ear splitting sound, his brother didn't even look up.

His heart slammed into his chest. "Dean!" Running to the bed, he hardly felt pieces of glass cut into his feet again, but when he reach it, it was like there was a wall, a force field keeping him away from his brother. Getting off the bed, he tried to reach him from the other side, but it was like a bubble, holding Dean inside... not allowing Sam in. 

"Can you hear me, Dean? Dean!" But his brother's eyes were only on the invisible entity that had to be with him right now. Seeing Dean like that, the things he was doing, saying, it made Sam squirm. The anger boiling within him, he used it to think of everything he'd learned. If you exposed a demon or a ghost, could see them, they could be more vulnerable and were usually more inclined to interact.

Wracking his mind, he spewed off a Latin incantation that he'd read about and that his dad would probably have a cow about, if he knew he was doing this. "I invoke, conjure and command you to appear," he said, repeating the phrase over and over, staring at the space right on top of Dean.

And then the lights flickered, and he saw... saw _himself_ , naked, on top of Dean, turning around with hate-filled eyes.

"Dean! That is NOT me," Sam shouted, trying again to get through the barrier, seeing his double lick his lips and shove its hand down Dean's shorts, grabbing his brother's attention. "Dean, over here... that's not real, it's not real, Dean! Dean, this is Sam, you know me," he shouted desperately. "Look at me, that thing on you, it’s the Incubus. Remember? We were researching, fucking look at me, Dean!" 

Dean whimpered, a desperate needy sound, and once Sam had given him permission it was like whatever chains had been holding him frozen suddenly snapped. Nothing could have stopped him then from touching his brother. Nothing could have stopped him from kissing the younger boy. Pushing his tongue into Sam’s mouth with an obscene groan as the fingers of his free hand fumbled with and finally literally tore off the younger boy’s underwear. Leaving Sam naked and beautiful and all his above him.

“Oh god, Sammy… need you so much…” Dean panted as he pulled his brother’s lithe form down against him and arched beneath the younger boy. The pressure against his cock as he rubbed up against his brother both soothing and fanning the flames of his desire even more. His hand ran down the younger boy’s back, cupping and squeezing Sam’s buttocks, and then delving between them. Finding that sweet puckered hole and remembering how it had felt to be sheathed deep inside of his brother last night. He wanted that again. Needed that again.

“Want to be inside you, baby brother. Want to feel you from the inside again… need to…” He whispered, against his brother’s lips. Pulling back to stare at the younger boy with all the love in his heart so that Sam would never again doubt. He would always choose Sam. Always. There was no one in this world that mattered more to him. No one in this world he loved more, needed more, than his brother.

“Love you, Sammy… love you…”

Dean’s fingers circled around his brother’s tight hole, still so tight even though he’d already had the boy, and he moaned at the younger boy’s warmth as he started to push one of his fingers inside. His attention solely focused on his brother, he didn’t even notice the flickering of the lights. But when he realized Sam's attention was no longer on him, Dean’s gaze started to follow the direction Sam was looking. He frowned in confusion, thought he saw, thought he heard…

But then Sam’s hand was inside of his shorts, squeezing and stroking his dick expertly, and Dean arched beneath the younger boy with another cry of pleasure. 

“Sammy!” Dean cried out his brother’s name as he thrust up into those skilled fingers playing with his dick. But once he had heard it, the sound wouldn’t go away now. It… sounded like Sam… calling to him, but from very far away… Sam sounded scared and desperate… in trouble… but Sam was right here, with him… wasn’t he? 

“Sammy?” He whispered, confused and pained, as he turned his head to the side… away from Sam, and it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life… blinking his eyes as though trying to clear them. 

Oh my God, Dean was looking at him, seeing him. Sam had to make this count. "I'm the real Sam Winchester, I'm your brother," he shouted, banging his hand against the force field. "That thing... Dean, it's the Incubus, it's killing you. Don't listen to it, don't... don't touch it. Look at me.... don't turn away," he shouted desperately. 

HE redoubled his efforts, leaning down and kissing Dean, blocking his view of the real Sam. HE shoved his tongue so deep inside Dean's mouth, the young man couldn't ignore it. In and out, DE wove his tongue, lifting up only to whisper about how hard they were gonna fuck again, how they'd be together forever, just like that.

Sam jumped off the bed and ran around to the other side of the force field, next to Dean and that thing. "Dean... listen to me. Tell it you don't want it. Tell it to go away, it's the _only_ way we win Dean. Dean please..."

Precious moments passed and the incubus had Dean groaning and writhing, making Sam both uncomfortable and getting him hot and bothered, which he knew was all wrong. Still, his body hardened, his breaths quickened... watching Dean, watching him with himself, it literally felt like he was the one with Dean. And he knew what that felt like, he knew the heat that Dean could send pumping through his body, how he could kiss him, make him feel like he was the center of the universe, the only one who mattered.

That's what that incubus was doing to Dean. Understanding dawned, and Sam tried again. "Dean, I love you. You know that. That thing there, it looks like me, but it isn't. Look at it, it's taking from you, Dean. It wants your life, it sucking it out of you. I just want..." He licked his lips. "I just want you. Want you to kiss me, like your kissing it, and it'll be real... not some act... you don't need some actor when the real thing is waiting on you, do you?"

His gaze fell on the incubus' hands and he saw how the thing moved, like a professional, milking lust out of Dean's body.

"I know I can't do that, what he's doing." Sam was on the verge of tears as he realized what he was up against. "I can't compete with that, how he's... he's touching you. But Dean, my love is real, his is not. I can learn... learn what you like, how to make you feel good, but not if you die, not if you let that thing take you from me. Please!" 

Dean blinked at Sam slowly in confusion. Not understanding how Sam could be all the way over there, and still be touching him. Running his fingers over his chest, caressing his cock, God, it felt so good… Of course Sam was real. Sam was with him. Finally. Just like he’d always wanted… Incubus… what…?

But then Sam was kissing him, and Dean couldn’t help but groan in pleasure. His eyes fluttering closed again as he kissed his brother back with just as much passion. Tangling their tongues together. Arching beneath the younger boy and squeezing Sam’s ass rightly, thrusting his already leaking cock through Sam’s slick fingers. 

His own fingers circled closer to his brother’s tight hole, groaning again at the heat of the younger boy’s puckered entrance. Teasing and finally slipping his fingers inside of his brother. Sam was already ready for him, slick and hot, begging, and so needy…

God he needed this so damned much…

Sam… Sam loved him… Sam needed him… His brother was in so much pain… Sammy…

He couldn’t think. Everything was such a blur. Everything pale and… meaningless… when compared to the burning need consuming him from the inside out. Everything except Sam. The Sam who was crying. In pain. The Sam who was begging him not to… leave…

Somehow Dean managed to turn his head weakly away from the lips that felt like they were almost suffocating him. He tried to breathe, tried to catch his breath, but it felt like the air simply wouldn’t reach his lungs. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, to clear his head only a little. Blood… he tasted blood in his mouth… he felt it dripping warm and wet from his nose… He tried to focus on Sam, he knew his brother was there, but he couldn’t see him.

“ _No…_ ” Dean whispered, barely more than a breath. Weakly trying to push the weight off him that was suffocating him. 

Seeing the incubus still touching Dean, rolling his hips, making Dean wild, Sam slammed his hand against the barrier. “He said NO. He said NO, get away from him. You have to leave now. I command you to leave, he said no, he _renounced_ you. Dammit!”

Sam bent down, to Dean’s level. “Tell it again, tell it Dean… say ‘I renounce you’… tell it, I swear Dean, you tell it that, and it will go away. It, the pain, everything.”

Leaning down, HE pushed his tongue all the way down Dean’s throat, kissed him just like they’d fuck, then pulling away briefly. “He’s not going to give you this. You heard him, he says everything will go away. He means this will go away. But you don’t want _this_ to go away, do you Dean? You want me.”

Sam hit the barrier again. “Anything you want, Dean, I’ll give it to you. Kiss you, touch you… Dean, I love you, please. Please!!!”

Dean couldn’t help but groan and arch up against the warm weight above him. Writhing underneath the undulating body pressing down on him, the hot line of their cocks sliding together. He just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop touching. Caressing. Wanting… needing… When the younger boy’s hot wet mouth covered his, and the tongue pushed its way inside, Dean opened his mouth freely to the intrusion. He just couldn’t help it…

He wanted it to stop. He never wanted it to stop…

Sam was yelling at him again. Screaming at him. Telling him what to do… telling him it would go away…

He wanted it to go away. Ne never wanted it to go away…

Dean whimpered in response to the words whispered across his lips. Sam… not going to give him this… it will go away… Sam will go away… no… he needed Sam, he needed him so much… No, he didn’t want Sam to go away…

He felt himself slipping away again, becoming buried underneath the feelings raging through him like wildfire. Need… Lust…

Love… Sam loved him… Sam needed him. Sam was the only thing that mattered… not the pain, not the need, not the lust… nothing… Just his brother… just his Sammy…

“No… want Sammy, I… r… renounce… you…” Dean gasped weakly. 

"Get off him, he renounced you!" Sam shouted, banging his fists on the force field and then stumbling forward when it was no longer there. He reached for the Incubus, but the thing had floated up, high above Dean, and was changing colors. It went from his own coloring to a freaky deep red.

Sam's entire body clenched in pain... no it was lust? Painful lust, like what Dean was going through. "S...stop..."

There was angry shriek from the incubus and then it was gone.

The sight of the Incubus in its true form was both sickening and frightening. Maybe even more so because even seeing it for what it truly was, when its touch finally left him, Dean still couldn’t help crying out in agonizing need. The demon’s last shriek of rage lanced through his whole body like a knife. Flaying him open completely and leaving him bleeding and wounded. It was supposed to go away. The pain… Sam had promised the pain would go away… It only got worse. So much worse…

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned in pain, desire so strong it hurt, his body shaking like he was having a seizure. He knew that his brother was still there, his real brother, Sammy. He knew Sam was there and… Sam had promised the pain would go away. Sam had promised him… Dean clung to that knowledge. His fingers gripping the sheets beneath him white knuckled, clinging to that thought. Sam had promised him. Promised to give him… everything… 

Sam's body went limp. He turned to Dean, thinking that like himself, his brother had been released from the spell, but he was wrong. Dean looked feverish, his body was writhing, his eyes needy. But he wasn't asking... not asking him for a thing. And now knowing how bad it was... Sam knew the super control Dean had to be exerting, that it could break any moment. He eyed the cuff on Dean's wrist, wanted to remove it... but remembered the last time Dean was all hands. 

It was different now, right? He'd promised Dean he'd be with him, however he wanted. He could trust Dean with his life, with slowing if that was what he needed, right? He thought back on the last time they'd practically made love... no fucked... no made... ah he was gonna drive himself nuts trying to figure it out. But he remembered, Dean was handsy and demanding, but he never hurt him, he begged but never forced him. He went to get the keys to the cuffs and saw Dean raising his body practically off the bed. "I'll be right there Dean, I swear," he said. 

By the time he got back, Sam dropped the damned key three times before he had the cuffs unlocked, and slowly lowered his body over his brother's naked one. "It's gone. I'm here... I'm here Dean," he said, shaking slightly as he lowered his mouth to Dean's and brushed against them once. "I think I still remember how," he said, a little embarrassed, but smiling slightly as he started to push his tongue into the heat of Dean's mouth, knowing in a few seconds, his brother would make all the self-consciousness go away, make it all better, just like he always did. 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to regain control over his body, trying to slow his heart that felt like it was ready to explode in his chest. He barely felt it when the cuff fell away from his wrist, however his eyes snapped open when he felt Sam’s slim body cover his own. His breath rushed out of him in a shuddering whimper when his brother’s lips brushed his own. Sammy… oh god… Sam… He couldn’t hold back any longer. Dean wrapped his arms around the younger boy tightly, clutching Sam to him as he opened his mouth beneath his brother’s. Sucking Sam’s tongue into his mouth and stroking it with his own. He touched Sam everywhere. Cupping and squeezing his buttocks, pulling Sam closer as he bucked underneath him. He ran his fingers through the younger boy’s hair, and cradled his head as he kissed Sam over and over. He arched underneath his brother desperately, his rock hard erection rubbing against his brother’s thigh, and when his orgasm finally ripped through him it took Dean completely by surprise. He practically sobbed into his brother’s mouth as his body shuddered. But with every pulse of his cock he felt a little bit of the pain ease, a little bit of the need fade…

The way Dean held him so tight, Sam could barely breath. His brother’s desperation was palpable, in the almost brutal kiss, in the way his fingers dug into his flesh, his ass, his back, in a way that had Sam thinking that even if he’d wanted to pull away, Dean might not be able to let him, and in the way he bucked so hard, so single mindedly grinding his erection into his thigh. Fuck... maybe it shouldn’t, but it did excite Sam... had him going hard just like that. The knowledge of how much Dean needed him, the proof of it... the hard knot rubbing against his thigh, the desperate sounds from Dean, it made Sam throb all over, every part of them that touched, made him want this to go on and on, even if Dean was hurting... which was fucked up and crazy... “oh God,” he whispered, opening his mouth again for his brother’s tongue.

Then wet hot cum was spurting across his thigh, and Sam almost wept because he thought it was the end. Dean had what he wanted, and maybe didn’t know what he’d started in Sam. This... these feelings that were building, and he didn’t want to go and take care of it alone again. He wanted Dean to...

Dean was still hard, painfully hard, his cock leaking steadily as they ground against each other, but his grip on the younger boy eased and his kisses gentled. He panted against his brother’s lips as his hands slid up from the younger boy’s ass and under his shirt, caressing the soft warm flesh of Sam’s back. He kept moving beneath Sam, grinding up against the younger boy, but he was able to go slower. His movements less frantic. His hands slid around to Sam’s chest, pushing his brother up off him a little. His fingers toying with Sam’s nipples as he stared up at his brother. Something else other than blind need flickered in his eyes as he gazed up at the younger boy. His eyes fell on his brother’s kiss swollen lips with no small amount of guilt.

Sam involuntarily threw his head back at the intensity of sensations crashing through him as Dean ran his calloused fingers over his nipples. He made a choked sound and forced himself to open his eyes, rocking gently against Dean, hesitating but unable to keep his restless body still. Wanting... wanting something from his brother, wanting it bad... His lips parted, eyes widening... hoping. “Don’t stop. Please Dean, don’t stop. I want...” he thrust against Dean, grinding his own erection into his brother’s hip. “Want this... don’t make me jerk off in the shower again, please. Need this,” he pushed his hips down again, “kiss me again, Dean.. want to...” he felt the heat steal over his cheeks. “Want to be under you.” 

The powerful… deadly… need that the incubus had created inside of him hadn’t dissipated. Not completely. Just enough to let Dean think beyond the painful arousal surging through his veins. Just enough to understand what was happening. What he was doing… and who he was doing it with… Dean knew without a doubt if Sam hadn’t stopped the incubus tonight that it would have killed him. Sucked him completely dry… 

But even knowing that his brother had saved his life tonight, aside from the powerful need still gripping him, he couldn’t help feeling shame and guilt. A part of him wished that Sam hadn’t intervened because this wasn’t some twisted sex demon he was holding, kissing, rutting up against. It was his baby brother. Sammy. How could he be doing this to his brother? How could he let himself… He hated himself more in this moment than he ever had his whole life. Because he knew he could stop, if Sam would just tell him to stop, he would. He didn’t care how much it hurt, he would stop… But Sam had to tell him… he didn’t have enough control to do it himself.

"Tell me… you don’t want this… I’ll stop…” But still Sam didn’t tell him. Sam kept rubbing against him, grinding his hips down against his needy erection, and Dean couldn’t help the needy pathetic sounds that even those small movements drew from him. Don’t do this, please, Sammy… He wanted to beg his brother, but he was weak. He couldn’t… and he hated himself even more. Sam begging him not to stop, begging for his kisses, his touch, telling him he wanted this… even though there was no way his brother could possibly want this… was Dean’s undoing. 

Dean’s hesitation scared Sam. He could see the indecision in his brother’s eyes, even as his body gave a whole other story. One of wanting, desiring, needing. “Under you,” Sam repeated, trying to show him that he meant it.

“Oh God, Sammy…” Dean practically whimpered before pulling his brother back down to him, rolling them over so that Sam was beneath him… just like Sam had asked. He covered his brother’s lips with his own, pouring all of the want and need… he shouldn’t be feeling… into the kiss, moaning softly into the younger boy’s mouth. So sweet… so much sweeter than that… thing… pretending to be his brother. 

He slid his hands down his brother’s body, hating the feel of the fabric beneath his fingers instead of the warm soft flesh he wanted to feel. So Dean pushed his hands underneath Sam’s shirt, spreading his fingers over the younger boy’s stomach as he caressed upwards. Sam’s t-shirt riding up as he went, feeling the taunt warm flesh of Sam’s stomach against his own making Dean groan again as he settled between his brother’s legs, rocking his hips against his brother’s. One of his hands moving around to slide beneath the waistband of his brother’s shorts, cupping and squeezing the younger boy’s bare ass.

Groaning at how good it felt to have the pressure of Dean’s body pressing into him like this, Sam squirmed closer, offering his mouth up completely to Dean. God the heat that went through him each time Dean kissed him... bet no one knew how to kiss like his brother. He put his arms around Dean’s shoulders, one hand sliding up the center of his back to the nape of his brother’s neck, playing with his hair as they kissed. He analyzed everything he loved about this. His brother’s taste... his scent, so familiar, and yet it was tantalizing, drawing him in a way it never had before. The confident way Dean moved, controlled the kiss, making it go slower and faster, tangling his tongue a million way, making this seem so... effortless... easy, just how Dean was on hunts, and when he was looking for chicks, at the top of his game. But the sounds he made... that’s what Sam liked best. Because as practiced as Dean was, as good as he was at this, the sounds told him that he was affected... that he needed Sam too, and that’s what made Sam respond even more wholeheartedly. 

As Dean’s hands moved over his stomach, Sam lifted his hips up, needing to get as close to Dean as he possibly could. “Dean, good... feels good,” he said, moving his mouth over his brothers, sucking his lower lip into his mouth like Dean had done to him. Releasing slowly, he moved to Dean’s upper lip and at just that moment, he realized Dean’s hands were inside his boxers. A loud moan broke out of him, his fingers digging more desperately into Dean’s back as heat swept through him.

“Oh God Dean ... more... please,” he begged, moving restlessly under his brother, hooking one leg over Dean’s and pulling himself up. “More... more Dean,” he demanded, his head moving from side to side.

Sam was touching him, holding on to him, hell, practically clinging to him. His brother’s soft fingers petting through his hair, teasing and soothing at the same time. The younger boy moving against him, squirming underneath him, but not to get away… like Sam should have been… only to get closer. Sam was making soft needy sounds, practically mewling into his mouth, and kissing him back… oh god, Sammy was kissing him back, and Dean could barely believe it. He would have sworn this was still a dream, a fantasy created by the incubus, but Dean knew it wasn’t. No matter how much that thing looked like his brother, no matter how much it sounded like Sam, no matter how much pleasure it gave him, it was nothing compared to having Sam in his arms. 

Sammy… his little brother… 

Dean wanted to hate himself but the way Sam was lifting his hips, whispering how good it felt as the younger boy sucked on his lip… the way Dean had shown him to… The way Sam moaned in surprise and pleasure as Dean squeezed his ass, clutching him tighter, and begged for more. Fuck…

“Anything you want, Sammy… anything…” Dean heard himself whisper and he knew he was lost. He was sliding his hand up the smooth lean muscled thigh that wrapped around him, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his brother’s underwear and dragging them down. Just enough to let the younger boy’s hard cock spring free and Dean groaned at the sight. He curled his fingers around the younger boy’s cock and began to stroke him, kissing and nipping his way down his brother’s throat and sucking on the skin above his collar bone. 

The low timbre or Dean’s voice got to Sam. His stomach muscles clenched tighter, he moaned as Dean’s calloused palm slipped up his thigh, and bit his lip in surprise when his shorts were moved out of the way. Heat stole up Sam’s cheeks when Dean looked down between their bodies, then Dean’s hand was around his dick, stroking him... oh God it felt like nothing he’d ever experienced... like nothing he’d ever dreamed. White hot heat licked up his body, making him squirm and thrust into Dean’s hand, making sounds come out of his throat... sounds he didn’t even recognize as his. 

Sam’s blunt fingernails dug into Dean’s flesh as his brother took him to places he’d never been. Each time his brother’s mouth moved over him, each little nibble on his sensitive skin had Sam aching just a little more. He threw his head back as a new wave of heat raced through his veins. His breaths started to come in in gasps as Dean moved lower on his body, as he kept pumping him. He was so hard... so damned hard. “D... Dean...” he had to really work on making sense. “Can I ... can I touch you too?” his hand slid down Dean’s back, to his sides. “Li... like you are?”

Oh God. Sam’s cock in his hand felt like hot velvet covered steel, practically burning his palm. The sounds his little brother was making, they were driving him crazy. Needy desperate whimpers and moans with every stroke he made along his sensitive flesh, every lick he made along his younger brother’s sweat slick skin, every time he circled his thumb over the head and sensitive slit of the younger boy’s dick. He was going to go to hell for this, Dean knew, but right now he didn’t give a damn. The younger boy’s fingers digging into his back, clutching him tighter, had Dean groaning. He stroked Sam a little faster as his brother fucked into his hand, and Dean held the younger boy a little tighter to him, loving the feel of his baby brother squirming helplessly beneath him in pleasure.

Dean bit down at the junction of the younger boy’s neck and shoulder, sucking hard, knowing he was leaving a mark and not really caring. Leaving a mark that Sam would wear for days, and every time his brother looked at it he would remember now… the idea made him sick at heart even as it thrilled him. 

Sam asking… practically begging… to touch him too nearly had Dean coming. He lifted his head, staring down at his brother with so much love and need it hurt, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to turn back, stop this, but he had already gone too far. There was no turning back now. God help him… “Yes… please, Sammy…” 

The intensity of Dean’s gaze was almost too much to bear. Sam licked his lips, wondering if he shouldn’t have asked, and then his brother was not only saying ‘yes’ but asking him to. “Dean, don’t stop,” he whispered, afraid that they were switching and that Dean’s hand would no longer move over him, but Dean seemed to understand. He just rolled onto his side, so they were facing each other, and oh God his hand was working him as good as before, squeezing stroking.

Breaking away from Dean’s gaze, Sam looked down, his cheeks flushing as he studied Dean’s cock erect and pressing up against his stomach. Swallowing, he put his palm over Dean’s chest, slowly running it down his body, lips parting in wonder as he felt Dean arch into his touch once his hand moved below his abs. First he palmed Dean’s cock, pressing his hand over it, trapping it against Dean’s stomach, rolling his hand in circles as he got used to the length and girth of his brother’s dick. When he worked up the courage, he took it in his closed fist, eyes swinging upwards to Dean’s as he moved slowly, stroking him, then emulating the motions of Dean’s own hand on him... squeezing when his brother squeezed, running his thumb over the crown of Dean’s cock, pulsing... and still watching Dean. 

His breaths were coming louder. Sam leaned closer, rubbing his mouth across Dean’s, inviting another kiss. He wanted Dean’s tongue inside his mouth, thrusting ... tangling with his tongue, making him feel like they were connected, that this was something special, for just the two of them.

The way Sam was looking at him only made Dean harder still if that was possible. Precome leaked from his tip as the younger boy’s fingers touched him. “Sammy…” Dean practically whined, his eyes fluttering closed and his lips parted, panting, his come smearing against his stomach as his brother rubbed his hand against it. Those first tentative touches were more incredible than he could have ever imagined, simply because it was Sam’s fingers and palm rubbing against his dick, exploring his length, finally wrapping around his aching shaft.

“Oh God…” Dean groaned as Sam touches along his dick mirrored what he was doing to boy. When he teased his thumb around the crown of Sam's dick, and Sam did the same for him, he wanted to come so fucking bad but he held back. Not wanting this to end so soon. He needed this not to end soon. He needed it to last for as long as fucking possible. Because he knew it would never happen again. "Sammy…” He breathed his brother’s name again against the younger boy’s lips when he felt them gently caress his own and he didn’t hesitate to accept the silent offer. His mouth opened to Sam’s and he teased his tongue past his brother’s lips to caress inside the younger boy’s mouth. His other hand slipped down his brother’s back to cup his brother’s ass as he sped his strokes along the younger boy’s dick. His fingers finding their way between the warm downy cheeks to rub and tease along his crack, over the tight puckered hole again and again. 

Dean's hand on his ass felt good, kind of tickled when he ran his fingers along his cleft, but when his finger concentrated on his hole, Sam's eyes fluttered open. Eyes wide, he watched Dean's face, unsure if he was supposed to be touching Dean like that too. Really, he could barely concentrate on stroking Dean's cock, keeping up the motions, when he was being drowned by the sensations rocking his entire body. He gave a strangled, "Dean?"

It shouldn't feel good, he didn't know why he thought that, but the truth was it did feel good. Sam had never known how sensitive that area was, that being touched there could feel like this. Yeah, he wasn't sure about things, but he trusted Dean... and Dean would know. "Didn't know it would feel like that," he whispered against Dean's ear, groaning as his brother squeezed him and then gripped the base of his cock. 

The look of near awe on the younger boy’s face as Dean played with his hole and his cock at the same time was nearly Dean's undoing. His brother was obviously surprised, but that didn’t stop Sam from thrusting into his hand and back onto his fingers and Dean couldn’t help rubbing more insistently over that tight hot pucker. He could feel the younger boy shaking against him, and he knew that his brother was close. Just as close as Dean himself was. Dean tightened his hold at the base of the younger boy’s cock, trying to hold them both off for just a few more minutes. He just wanted this to last a little longer…

“I’m so close… fuck Sammy, so good…” Dean couldn’t help but whisper, breathing his brother’s name over and over, almost like a prayer as Sam fucked into his hand harder, stroked him harder, kissed him again and again… Hearing the younger boy’s little whimpers of need, his brother’s whispered desperate pleas, was his undoing. He fucked once, twice, more into Sam’s hand, hanging right there on the edge.

Had Dean realized he was close to coming... had he helped him slow down like that? All Sam knew was that he was glad... that it felt good to keep going. "s'good Dean," he managed to say, hips thrusting harder into Dean's palm. He felt a light sheen of sweat cover him, he was so hot... he needed Dean so badly his motions were getting jerkier. He tried to concentrate on moving his hand just right, wanting to give Dean the same pleasure that Sam was giving him.

Again and again, he brought his mouth to Dean's, kissing him, learning to tangle his tongue with his brother's. It felt good, so good to run his tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth, to trace him from the inside, to stroke his tongue over Dean's and dart his tongue away, only to be caught by Dean's. Little sounds started to break from him. Heat pooled low in his belly, pressure building... building to new heights. "Dean need... oh man... I gotta...." he bit his lower lip, and squeezed his eyes shut as his balls drew up tight against his body. 

"Dean, can't... can't wait more..." 

“Come for me, Sammy… I’ve got you… come for me, little brother…” Dean whispered as he jerked the younger boy’s cock faster and pressed the tip of one finger just past the tight muscles guarding his brother’s entrance. At the same time, his own cock pulsed and he gave a strangled cry as he came a second time all over the both of them. 

Sam didn't know why, but his brother's breathless words just pushed him that to the edge. He was moving with wild abandoned, touching, squeezing, fucking between Dean's hands on his cock and his ass, not knowing what to do with all these intense feelings rushing through him, drowning him. It was too much, too much pleasure, too much need, too much helplessness. The sudden invasion of his hole made his entire body tense, and stiffen, his balls drawing up so tight against his body it hurt. 

"Ungh!" The unintelligible sound was torn from Sam's throat, and then he was coming... all over his brother... his cum spraying against Dean's stomach just as Dean's splattered hotly against his own. He was trembling, even as the last wave of heat passed over him, and he rolled closer, putting his arm around Dean's waist, his stomach sliding against the wetness of Dean's. 

Oh God, the way Sam came on command only made Dean come harder himself. His brother’s seed spilled through his fingers on the younger boy’s cock, mingling with his own, and completely covering the both of them. So fucking dirty and wrong and… perfect… His little brother was trembling with desire, with the pleasure Dean had given him, his hand on the younger boy’s cock and his finger inside… Fuck…   
Dean withdrew his finger and released his brother’s spent flesh, he knew he should push Sam away from him now… but he just couldn’t. He knew Sam would push him away soon enough so it would be easier if he was the one to do it… but he just couldn’t… he had promised Sam he wouldn’t. Even though he knew Sam would never have made him make that promise if the younger boy knew this… would be the result. His sick brother using him like this… oh god, he never should have let Sam do this for him… How could he have fucked up this badly? 

But Sam didn’t push him away, instead the younger boy only pushed himself closer. Curling against him and holding on, rubbing their sweat and come slick skin against each other, and Dean could only close his eyes as another gentler shiver of pleasure passed through him. He was so damned tired. Exhausted beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life. Now that the need the incubus had made burn inside of him was sated, he felt like he could sleep for a week. 

Sam buried his face in his brother's throat, breathing deeply, taking in his scent, trying to bring his thoughts and feelings under control few minutes passed. Peace settled inside Sam's body. Leaning even closer, he kissed Dean's neck. "You're mine Dean. Not... not that thing's." His eyes were closed, his body and mind tired, drowsy now that Dean was safe, but he needed to make that one thing clear. Had to. "Not that nurse's either." Yeah, Dean would probably argue with him later, but he'd said his piece.

Dean knew they couldn’t… shouldn’t… stay like this. They needed to talk… but he just couldn’t stay awake. Not when he felt so sated, warm, and… happy… Sam’s soft words made his breath hitch a little in his throat. Sam couldn’t possibly mean what… he thought Sam meant… God damn it he wasn’t going to start blubbering like some kind of girl. “I can live with that.” Dean murmured softly, hugging Sam even closer to him as he drifted off. 

* * * 

When Sam finally woke, it was late, real late into the night. They'd been out for a good twelve hours. With Dean's arms around him, the heat of his body against his own, he felt so... safe, protected. Things were back where they should be again, with Dean normal and able to take back his role. Except Sam had found out he could help his brother too. That protection ran two ways between them. 

He smiled against Dean's throat then lifting his head, looked down at his brother, peaceful in sleep. Was it bad that he saw him differently now? That he loved his brother's full lips now for how they looked and felt... for the things they could do to him? That thinking about that mouth on his body made him tingle and burn? Swallowing, his eyes swept over the scattering of freckles across the bridge of Dean's nose. You had to be up close or know they were there, or you'd never notice them. Then there were his eyes. One minute they could be filled with mischief, the next so fucking intense it made you hold your breath. But one thing... when he wasn't pushing you away, they left you in no doubt that you were the center of his world.

Sam guessed he'd always known that. It had just been hard to hang onto that feeling when Dean had started pushing him away. Shouting more often, basically rejecting him in ways and for things he didn't understand. Now everything could be right with them. Sam would make sure of it.

Lowering his mouth, he kissed Dean, hard, pushing his tongue inside his brother's mouth, stroking his tongue and the roof of his mouth, making sure he woke him. When he knew Dean was up, he started to pull away and found he was kind of stuck to Dean. A flush of embarrassment swept over him at the knowledge that it was the dried semen between them that was the 'glue.' "We should probably shower. You wanna?" The 'with me' was obvious. 

Dean had slept like the dead. If he’d had any dreams, he didn’t remember them. He was completely utterly exhausted, and completely lost to the world of the living. Except when their dad was around, he usually didn't allow himself to sleep that hard, unless he was unconscious. He had to be able to be awake and alert at a moment’s notice, able to protect himself and Sam… But he felt safe in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Warm and content… and safe… safe enough to sleep deep and long without fear. Even when he was drawn out of his deep sleep against his will and without warning by the pressure against his lips, for some reason he wasn’t alarmed. The soft insistent wet tongue invading his mouth, exploring every inch of him, made him moan softly instead of jerking awake and reaching for a weapon. His arms tightened a little around the warm naked body pressed against him, his own tongue tangling with the one in his mouth. His eyes finally fluttered open, a soft sound of complaint escaping his throat, when those sweet lips pulled away.

“Sam?” Dean whispered, still half confused by what was happening as the rest of his brain struggled to wake up. Sam was still with him… had never moved away from him, obviously, by the way they were still ‘stuck’ together. Dean blinked up at the younger boy. Yeah… a shower would probably be good, but… Dean swallowed hard… They needed to talk. Sam had to understand that just because his brother was a sick fuck that wanted to fuck his baby brother, Sam didn’t need to… let him… The Incubus was gone… at least Dean was pretty sure it was gone. It was just his own sick twisted desires left. They might have been tying him up in knots for months, but he could control them. 

“Sammy… I… you don’t have to… do this…” Dean finally forced out, forcing himself to loosen his hold on the younger boy in his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to… I never wanted you to know, but you don’t have to anymore.” 

Icy fingers of fear had Sam meeting Dean's eyes as he waited to be pushed away, to be rejected. It never came. Listening both to Dean's words and his body language, Sam understood this was an apology and an opportunity to walk out the door, that was all. Dean was being honorable, as usual, possibly at the cost of his own happiness. He could see pain in his brother's eyes, regret. Bet he'd rather have died, been sucked of all of his energy by that incubus than to have caused Sam to do this, to make love with him.

Complicated, hell yeah. Sam had known that, known what he was getting into. He'd known it as well as he knew his heart, and in his heart he knew this wasn't just about the incubus. That might have been the catalyst for him learning what he wanted, needed from Dean, but that wasn't the reason he wanted to stay curled up against this brother, wasn't the reason he wanted some assurance that this was not the last time, that they'd explore this... maybe just accept it.

He licked his lips, tightened his own grip on his brother. "It's... it's not about that Dean. I... I want this, wanted it before, want it now," he said softy, trying to explain. "That thing is gone now, but this... this thing between us, it's still here. I know you think I'm a kid, yes you do," he insisted before Dean could interrupt him. "But I know my mind Dean, I know what I want. I always know what I want, and I want you... want to be with you like this, only you." He skimmed his mouth over Dean's, loving the heat... the electricity that hummed between them. He couldn't give that up, wouldn't. 

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe to see a flash of relief in the younger boy’s eyes now that he didn’t have to let his sick older brother use his body. Maybe he just expected Sam to nod in agreement and leave. At least his brother was kind enough not to let his revulsion show… He hadn’t been expecting his brother to hold onto him tighter. Almost desperately tight. "Sammy?” Dean could only whisper in disbelief and confusion. What did Sam mean that it wasn’t about the incubus? The fact that the creature had been killing him… Sam had no choice… of course it was about that. But Dean wasn’t in ‘danger’ anymore. Sam didn’t need to keep doing this. Surely his brother had to realize…

But Sam was saying… that he… wanted this… before… 

Dean’s expression clouded over with even more disbelief. How could Sam possibly have wanted this before? How could he want it now! They both couldn’t possibly be this fucked up… oh god, had he damaged Sam more than he thought? Now Sam thought that he actually… 

He wanted to protest what Sam was saying, but honestly he didn’t even know where to start. There was so much so very wrong… No, Sam wasn’t a ‘kid’ anymore. That was part of the problem. But he was still so damned young. Not to mention Sam was his little brother. His brother had never even… been with anyone before… except him. Fuck, that was so wrong… Still, he couldn’t help but moan softly against his brother’s lips as he surrendered to the gentle loving kiss Sam eagerly returned and the older boy knew he was lost. It was still wrong, would always be wrong, but as long as his brother let him have this… wanted it just as much as he did… Dean knew he was lost. He could only pray when the day came Sam realized that this wasn’t what he really wanted, his brother wouldn’t hate him. When the day came that Sam didn’t want this anymore, didn’t want him anymore, Dean would let him go… no matter how it might break his heart… Now, Dean couldn’t push Sam away. He’d promised… He wasn’t strong enough even if he hadn’t made that promise. 

Sam's declaration that he wanted him, _only him_ … it nearly broke Dean's heart, even as he felt it fill with a treacherous hope he had no right feeling. But with Sam’s soft lips caressing his own, Dean knew he was lost. God help him, he couldn’t fight this, especially if Sam wouldn’t push him away like he should. “I should go to hell for touching you this way… loving you this way…” Dean whispered, maybe praying that his brother would come to his senses and stop him from ruining him. Praying Sam would come to his senses even as he kissed the younger boy.

Groaning softly, Sam chased Dean's tongue, stroking, tasting, loving Dean, hanging onto him, holding him tight, showing him silently that he meant what he said, that he wanted this... needed it. They kissed until he had to pull up to take a breath. Eyes locking with Dean's, he licked his mouth, tasting Dean there, and swallowed. "Thing is... you were _already_ on your way to hell. I'm... I'm just saving you from it, from your slutting around." He gave a dimpled smile, then lowered his mouth again for another mind drugging kiss. God... he loved the way Dean held him tight, the way his hands roved over his body without even the slightest hesitation. No awkward explorations, no experimental first-time touches. It was perfect, Dean was perfect. 

When Sam finally pulled back from their kiss that left them both panting a little, Dean’s eyebrows shot up a little at the younger boy’s words. Slutting around… that little cheeky bitch. Dean would have had quite a few things to say to that if Sam didn’t proceed to silence him yet with another kiss. Little shit. And here he was worried about ruining his brother. The younger boy was still the pain in the ass little brother he always had been. 

This time when he broke the kiss, Sam had no doubt he _had_ Dean. His lips quirked into another smile. "Want you to kiss me when you're all wet... in the shower." Before his brother could answer, Sam rolled off him, and walked away, that smile still firmly in place and certain, Dean would follow. 

The next time Sam pulled away, making his suggestion that they continue this ‘discussion’ in the shower, Dean couldn’t help but return the younger boy’s grin though he didn’t move right away. Simply watching Sam as his brother headed off to the bathroom naked as the day he was born and not the least bit shy and apparently showing himself off.

Dean couldn’t help but smile a little, a cautious optimism filling him in spite of everything. Maybe it would be ok after all. Hearing the shower start Dean pushed himself up from the bed, following after Sam. 

THE END


End file.
